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CONTENTS. 


PROVERBIAL   PHILOSOPHY. 


FIRST   SERIES. 


Prefatory, 

The  Words  of  Wisdom, 

Of  Truth  in  Things  False. 

Of  Anticipation, 

Of  Hidden  Uses, 

Of  Compensation, 

Of  Indirect  Influences, 

Of  Memory, 

Th<i  Dream  of  Ambition, 

Of  Subjection, 

Of  Rest, 

Of  Humility, 

Of  Pride, 

Of  Experience, 

Of  Estimating  Character, 

Of  Hatred  and  Anger, 

Of  Good  in  Things  Evil, 

Of  Prayer, 

The  Lord's  Prayer, 

Of  Discretion, 

Of  Trifles, 


Introductory, 
Of  Cheerfulness, 
Of  Yesterday, 
Of  To-day, 
Of  To-Morrow, 


Page. 

9 

Of  Recreation, 

11 

The  Train  of  Religion, 

12 

Of  a  Trinity, 

15 

Of  Thinking, 

16 

Of  Speaking, 

19 

Of  Reading, 

23 

Of  Writing, 

26 

Of  Wealth, 

29 

Of  Invention, 

30 

Of  Ridicule, 

37 

Of  Commendation, 

39 

Of  Self-Acquaintance, 

42 

Of  Cruelty  to  Animals, 

43 

Of  Friendship, 

45 

Of  Love, 

51 

Of  Marriage, 

52 

Of  Education, 

56 

Of  Tolerance, 

59 

Of  Sorrow, 

60 

Of  Joy, 

62 

Notes, 

SECOND   SEBIES. 

129 

Of  Authorship, 

131 

Of  Mystery, 

134 

Of  Gifts, 

137 

Of  Beauty, 

139 

Of  Fame, 

64 

67 

68 

71 

75 

78 

80 

82 

86 

88 

89 

92 

97 

99 

102 

104 

107 

114 

117 

118 

121 


141 
146 
152 
156 
166 


2051381 


CONTENTS. 


Of  Flattery, 

Of  Neglect, 

Of  Contentment, 

Of  life, 

Of  Death, 

Of  Immortality, 

Of  Ideas, 

Of  Names, 


172 
178 
184 
188 
193 
198 
212 
215 


Of  Things, 
Of  Faith, 
Of  Honesty, 
Of  Society, 
Of  Solitude, 
The  End, 
Notes, 


218 
221 
226 
231 
237 
239 
245 


A   THOUSAND    LINES. 


Prologue,  •  253 

Sloth,  254 

Activity,  255 

Adventure,  256 

The  Song  of  Sixteen,  257 

Forty,  258 

The  Song  of  Seventy,  259 

Nature's  Nobleman,  261 

Never  Give  Up,  262 

The  Sun,  262 

The  Moon,  263 

The  Stars  (I.),  263 

The  Stars  (H.),  264 

Forgive  and  Forget,  264 
My  Mind  to  Me  a  Kingdom  is,  266 


Tarring  Church,  275 

Sonnet,  on  a  Birth,  275 

Duty,  276 

Counsel,  276 

Home,  277 

Byegones,  277 

Rule  Britannia,  278 

The  Emigrant  Ship,  280 
The  Assurance  of  Horace,          281 

The  Assurance  of  Ovid,  282 

Post-Letters,  282 

Society,  284 

On  an  Infant,  285 

Epilogue,  286 


HACTENUS: 


SUNDRY   OP   MY   LYRICS    HITHERTO. 


The  New  Year,  289 

All's  for  the  Best,  290 

The  Riddle  Read,  291 

Old  Haunts,  293 

The  Battle  of  Roleia,  293 

Retrospect,  296 

Peace  and  Quietness,  297 

The  Early  Gallop,  298 
Ascot :   June  3,  1847  —  "When 

Hero  Won,  299 

Life,  300 

Waterldo,  300 
"  Are  You  a  Great  Reader  ? "     307 

The  Verdict,  308 

Guernsey,  308 

All's  Right,  309 


The  Complaint  of  an  Ancient 

Briton,  309 

Farley  Heath,  311 

Wisdom,  313 

The  Heart's  Husband,  314 

Prophets,  315 

Wheat-Corn,  and  Chaff,  315 

The  Happy  Man,  316 

Heraldic,  317 

The  True  Epicure,  318 

Threnos,  318 

The  Dead,  320 

To  America,  323 
The  Thanks  of  Parliament  to 

Wellington  and  his  Army,  325 

Pain,  327 


CONTENTS. 

6 

Fags. 

Three   Versions    of    Adrian's 

The  Thanksgiving  Hymn  and 

*««•. 

Apostrophe,                              327 

Chant, 

339 

No  Surrender,                              328 

M.  T., 

342 

Never  Mind,                                 329 

Two  Psalms, 

342 

The      Cromlech      Du      Tus, 

Confession, 

344 

Guernsey,                                  330 

A  Song, 

345 

A  Family  Picture,                       332 

Cheer  Up, 

346 

Postscript,                                       334 

"  Together," 

346 

Errata,  an  Author's  Complaint,  335 

Friends, 

347 

Impromptu,                                    335 

A  Greeting, 

348 

Venus,                                              336 

Horace's  Philosophy, 

348 

"  The  Warm  Young  Heart,"      337 

"  The  Last  Time," 

349 

A  Consecration,                            338 

The  Poet's  Wealth, 

351 

GERALDINE, 

AND    OTHEIt    POEMS. 

Preface,                                          355  1  Geraldine,  —  Part  EL, 

367 

Geraldine,  —  Part  L,                   359  |  Geraldine,  —  Part  HL, 

377 

MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Imagination,                                  389 

The  Crisis, 

419 

The  Song  of  an  Alpine  Elf,        393 

Charity, 

419 

Dreams,                                    '     395 

Sonnet, 

421 

Infant  Christ,  with  a  "Wreath 

The  Forsaken, 

421 

of  Flowers,                                396 

The  Stammerer's  Complaint, 

422 

Past,  Present,  and  Future,          397 

Benevolence, 

425 

On  a  Bulbous  Root,                    398 

A  Cabinet  of  Fossils, 

428 

Cruelty,                                         401 

The  Mast  of  the  Victory, 

431 

Children,                                         404 

An     Inquiry  concerning    the 

Sonnet  to  My  Book,                     406 

Souls  of  Brutes, 

433 

To  the  Same,                                406 

The  Chamois-Hunter, 

437 

Sonnet,                                          407 

Nature, 

440 

Monsieur  D'Alvernon,                407 

Art, 

440 

Wisdom's  Wish,                            409 

Cheerfulnessv 

441 

The  Mother's  Lament,                411 

Malice, 

441 

Trust,                                             412 

The  Happy  Home, 

442 

Flowers,                                         413 

The  Wretched  Home, 

442 

Wedding  Gifts,                            414 

Theory, 

443 

Marriage,                                       4^5 

Practice, 

443 

A  Glimpse  of  Paradise,              416 

Riches, 

444 

A  Debt  of  Love,                          416 

Poverty, 

444 

To  Little  Ellen,                            417 

Light, 

445 

On  the  Birth  of  Little  Mary,     417 

Darkness, 

445 

Days  Gone  By,                             4i8 

Poetry, 

446 

CONTENTS. 


Prose,            * 

Page. 
446 

Matter, 

453 

Friendship,  Constrained, 

447 

Life, 

454 

Enmity,  Compelled, 

447 

Death, 

454 

Philanthropic, 

448 

Ellen  Gray, 

455 

Misanthropic, 

448 

The  African  Desert, 

460 

Country, 

449 

The  Suttees, 

467 

Town, 

449 

A  Carmen  Saeculare  for  Chris- 

Worldly and  Wealthy, 

450 

tian  England, 

472 

Wise  and  Worthy, 

450 

A  Prayer  for  the  Land, 

475 

Liberality, 

451 

Labor, 

477 

Meanness, 

451 

"What  is  a  Poet?" 

480 

Ancient, 

452 

"  Ye  Thirty  Noble  Nations," 

481 

Modern, 

452 

Courage, 

486 

Spirit, 

453 

Conclusion, 

487 

PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

FIRST  SERIES. 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


PREFATORY. 

THOUGHTS,  that  have  tarried  in  my  mind,  and  peopled  its  inner  chambers, 

The  sober  children  of  reason,  or  desultory  train  of  fancy ; 

Clear  running  wine  of  conviction,  with  the  scum  and  the  lees  of  spec* 

lotion; 

Corn  from  the  sheaves  of  Science,  with  stubble  from  mine  own  garner , 
Searchings  after  Truth,  that  have  tracked  her  secret  lodes, 
And  come  up  again  to  the  surface-world  with  a  knowledge  grounded 

deeper ; 

Arguments  of  high  scope,  that  have  soared  to  the  keystone  of  heaven, 
And  thence  have  swooped  to  their  certain  mark,  as  the  falcon  to  its  quarry ; 
The  fruits  I  have  gathered  of  prudence,  the  ripened  harvest  of  my  musings, 
These  commend  I  unto  thee,  O  docile  scholar  of  Wisdom, 
These  I  give  to  thy  gentle  heart,  thou  lover  of  the  right. 

What  though  a  guilty  man  renew  that  hallowed  theme, 

And  strike  with  feebler  hand  the  harp  of  Sirach's  son  ? 

What,  though  a  youthful  tongue  take  up  that  ancient  parable, 

And  utter  fuintly  forth  dark  sayings  as  of  old  ? 

Sweet  is  the  virgin  honey,  though  the  wild  bee  have  stored  it  in  a  reed ; 

And  bright  the  jewelled  band,  that  circleth  an  Ethiop's  arm ; 

Pure  are  the  grams  of  gold  in  the  turbid  stream  of  Ganges, 

And  fair  the  living  flowers,  that  spring  from  the  dull  cold  sod.  • 

Wherefore,  thou  gentle  student,  bend  thine  ear  to  my  speech, 

For  I  also  am  as  thou  art ;  our  hearts  can  commune  together ; 

To  meanest  matters  will  I  stoop,  for  mean  is  the  lot  of  mortal; 

I  will  rise  to  noblest  themes,  for  the  soul  hath  an  heritage  of  glory : 


10  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  passions  of  puny  man ;  the  majestic  characters  of  God ; 

The  feverish  shadows  of  time,  and  the  mighty  substance  of  eternity. 

Commend  thy  mind  unto  candour,  and  grudge  not  as  though  thou  hadet  a 

teacher, 

Nor  scorn  angelic  Truth  for  the  sake  of  her  evil  herald ; 
Heed  not  him,  but  hear  his  words,  and  care  not  whence  they  come ; 
The  viewless  winds  might  whisper  them,  the  billows  roar  them  forth, 
The  mean  unconscious  sedge  sigh  them  in  the  ear  of  evening, 
Or  the  mind  of  pride  conceive,  and  the  mouth  of  folly  speak  them. 
Lo  now,  I  stand  not  forth  laying  hold  on  spear  and  buckler, 
I  corne  a  man  of  peace,  to  comfort,  not  to  combat ; 
With  soft  persuasive  speech  to  charm  thy  patient  ear, 
Giving  the  hand  of  fellowship,  acknowledging  the  heart  of  sympathy : 
Let  us  walk  together  as  friends  in  the  shaded  paths  of  meditation, 
Nor  judgment  set  his  seal  until  he  hath  poised  his  balance ; 
That  the  chastenings  of  mild  reproof  may  meet  unwitting  error, 
And  charity  not  be  a  stranger  at  the  board  that  is  spread  for  brothers. 


THE   WORDS   OF    WISDOM. 

FEW  and  precious  are  the  words  which  the  lips  of  Wisdom  utter : 

To  what  shall  their  rarity  be  likened  ?  What  price  shall  count  their  worth? 

Perfect  and  much  to  be  desired,  and  giving  joy  with  riches, 

No  lovely  thing  on  earth  can  picture  all  their  beauty. 

They  be  chance  pearls,  flung  among  the  rocks  by  the  sullen  waters  of 

Oblivion. 

Which  Diligence  loveth  to  gather,  and  hang  round  the  neck  of  Memory ; 
They  be  white-winged  seeds  of  happiness,  wafted  from  the  islands  of  the 

blessed, 

Which  Thought  carefully  tendeth,  in  the  kindly  garden  of  the  heart ; 
They  be  sproutings  of  an  harvest  for  eternity,  bursting  through  the  tilth  of 

tune, 

Green  promise  of  the  golden  wheat,  that  yieldeth  angels'  food ; 
They  be  drops  of  the  crystal  dew,  which  the  wings  of  seraphs  scatter, 
When  on  some  brighter  Sabbath,  their  plumes  quiver  most  with  delight ; 
Such,  and  so  precious,  are  the  words  which  the  lips  of  Wisdom  utter. 

Yet  more,  for  the  half  is  not  said,  of  their  might,  and  dignity,  and  value , 
For  live-giving  be  they  and  glorious,  redolent  of  sanctity  and  heaven : 
As  the  fumes  of  hallowed  incense,  that  veil  the  throne  of  the  Most  High ; 
As  the  beaded  bubbles  that  sparkle  on  the  rim  of  the  cup  of  Immortality ; 
As  wreaths  of  the  rainbow  spray,  from  the  pure  cataracts  of  Truth. 
Such,  and  so  precious,  are  the  words  which  the  lips  of  Wisdom  utter. 

Yet  once  again,  loving  student,  suffer  the  praises  of  thy  teacher. 
For  verily  the  sun  of  the  mind,  and  the  life  of  the  heart,  is  Wisdom: 
She  is  pure  and  full  of  light,  crowning  gray  hairs  with  lustre, 
And  kindling  tHe  eye  of  youth  with  a  fire  not  its  own ; 
And  her  words,  whereunto  canst  thou  liken  them  ?  for  earth  cannot  show 
their  peers: 


13  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

They  be  grains  of  the  diamond  sand,  the  radiant  floor  of  heaven, 

Rising  in  sunny  dust  behind  the  chariot  of  God  ; 

They  be  flashes  of  the  day-spring  from  on  high,  shed  from  the  windows 

of  the  skies ; 

They  be  streams  of  living  waters,  fresh  from  the  fountain  of  Intelligence ; 
Such  and  so  precious,  are  the  words  which  the  lips  of  Wisdom  utter. 

For  these  shall  guide  thee  well,  and  guard  thee  on  thy  way  ; 

And  wanting  all  beside,  with  these  shalt  thou  be  rich  : 

Though  all  around  be  woe,  these  shall  make  thee  happy ; 

Though  all  within  be  pain,  these  shall  bring  thee  health  ; 

Thy  good  shall  grow  into  ripeness,  thine  evil  wither  and  decay, 

And  Wisdom's  words  shall  sweetly  charm  thy  doubtful  into  virtues : 

Meanness  shall  then  be  frugal  care  ;  where  shame  was,  thou  art  modest 

Cowardice  riseth  into  caution,  rashness  is  sobered  into  courage ; 

The  wrathful  spirit,  rendering  a  reason,  standeth  justified  in  anger 

The  idle  hand  hath  fair  excuse,  propping  the  thoughtful  forehead. 

Life  shall  have  no  labyrinth  but  thy  steps  can  track  it, 

For  thou  hast  a  silken  clue,  to  lead  thee  through  the  darkness : 

The  rampant  Minotaur  of  ignorance  shall  perish  at  thy  coming, 

And  thine  enfranchised  fellows  hail  thy  white  victorious  sails.  (') 

Wherefore,  friend  and  scholar,  hear  the  words  of  Wisdom ; 

Whether  she  speaketh  to  thy  soul  in  the  full  chords  of  revelation ; 

In  the  teaching  earth,  or  air,  or  sea ;  in  the  still  melodies  of  thought, 

Or,  haply,  in  the  humbler  strains  that  would  detain  thee  here. 


OF  TRUTH  IN  THINGS  FALSE. 

ERROR  is  a  hardy  plant ;  it  flourisheth  in  every  sofl ; 
In  the  heart  of  the  wise  and  good,  alike  with  the  wicked  and  foolish ; 
For  there  is  no  error  so  crooked,  but  it  hath  in  it  some  lines  of  truth ; 
Nor  is  any  poison  so  deadly,  that  it  serveth  not  some  wholesome  use : 
And  the  just  man,  enamoured  of  the  right,  is  blinded  by  the  speciousneaa 

of  wrong. 

And  the  prudent,  perceiving  an  advantage,  is  content  to  overlook  the  harm. 
On  all  things  created  remaineth  the  half-effaced  signature  of  God, 


OF  TRUTH  IN  THINGS  FALSE.  13 

Somewhat  of  fair  and  good,  though  blotted  by  the  finger  of  corruption  : 
And  if  error  cometh  in  like  a  flood,  it  mixeth  with  streams  of  truth, 
And  the  Adversary  loveth  to  have  it  so,  for  thereby  many  are  decoyed. 
Providence  is  dark  in  its  permissions ;  yet  one  day,  when  all  is  known, 
The  universe  of  reason  shall  acknowledge  how  just  and  good  were  they; 
For  the  wise  man  leaneth  on  his  wisdom,  and  the  righteous  trusteth  to  hia 

righteousness, 

And  those  who  thirst  for  independence,  are  suffered  to  drink  of  disappoint- 
ment. 
Wherefore  ? — to  prove  and  humble  them ;  and  to  teach  the  idolaters  of 

truth, 
That  it  is  but  the  ladder  unto  Him,  on  whom  only  they  should  trust. 

There  is  truth  in  the  wildest  scheme  that  imaginative  heat  hath  engen- 
dered, 

And  a  man  may  gather  somewhat  from  the  crudest  theories  of  fancy : 
The  alchemist  laboureth  in  folly,  but  catcheth  chance  gleams  of  wisdom. 
And  findeth  out  many  inventions,  though  his  crucible  breed  not  gold ; 
The  sinner,  toying  with  witchcraft,  thinketh  to  delude  his  fellows, 
But  there  be  very  spirits  of  evil,  and  what  if  they  come  at  his  bidding ; 
He  is  a  bold  bad  man  who  dareth  to  tamper  with  the  dead ; 
For  their  whereabout  lieth  in  a  mystery — that  vestibule  leading  to  Eternity, 
The  waiting-room  for  unclad  ghosts,  before  the  presence-chamber  of  their 

King: 

Mind  may  act  upon  mind,  though  bodies  be  far  divided  ; 
For  the  life  is  in  the  blood,  but  souls  communicate  unseen : 
And  the  heat  of  an  excited  intellect,  radiating  to  its  fellows, 
Doth  kindle  dry  leaves  afar  off,  while  the  green  wood  around  it  is  un- 

warmed. 

The  dog  may  have  a  spirit  as  well  as  his  brutal  master  ; 
A  spirit  to  live  in  happiness  ;  for  why  should  he  be  robbed  of  his  existence  ? 
Hath  he  not  a  conscience  of  evil,  a  glimmer  of  moral  sense, 
Love  and  hatred,  courage  and  fear,  and  visible  shame  and  pride  ? 
There  may  be  a  future  rest  for  the  patient  victims  of  the  cruel ; 
And  a  season  allotted  for  their  bliss,  to  compensate  for  unjust  suffering. 
Spurn  not  at  seeming  error,  but  dig  below  its  surface  for  the  truth ; 
And  beware  of  seeming  truths,  that  grow  on  the  roots  of  error : 
For  comely  are  the  apples  that  spring  from  the  Dead  Sen's  cursed  shore : 
But  within  are  they  dust  and  ashes,  and  the  hand  that  plucked  them  shall 
rue  it. 


14  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  frequent  similar  effect  argueth  a  constant  cause : 
Yet  who  hath  counted  the  links  that  bind  an  omen  to  its  issue  ? 
Who  hath  expounded  the  law  that  rendereth  calamities  gregarious, 
Pressing  down  with  yet  more  woes  the  heavy-laden  mourner  ? 
Who  knoweth  wherefore  a  monsoon  should  swell  the  sails  of  the  prosper- 
ous, 

Blithely  speeding  on  their  course  the  children  of  good  luck  ? 
Who  hath  companioned  a  vision  from  the  horn  or  ivory  gate,  (3) 
Or  met  an  other's  mind  in  his,  and  explained  its  presence  ? 
There  is  a  secret  somewhat  in  antipathies  ;  and  love  is  more  than  fancy  ; 
Yea,  and  a  palpable  notice  warneth  of  an  instant  danger ; 
For  the  soul  hath  its  feelers,  cobwebs  floating  on  the  wind, 
That  catch  events  in  their  approach  with  sure  and  apt  presentiment, 
So  that  some  halo  of  attraction  heraldeth  a  coming  friend. 
Investing,  in  his  likeness,  the  stranger  that  passed  on  before ; 
And  while  the  word  is  in  thy  mouth,  behold  thy  word  fulfilled, 
And  he  of  whom  we  spake  can  answer  for  himself. 
O  man,  little  hast  thou  learnt  of  truth  in  things  most  true, 
How  therefore  shall  thy  blindness  wot  of  truth  in  things  most  false  ? 
Thou  hast  not  yet  perceived  the  causes  of  life  or  motion  ; 
How  then  canst  thou  define  the  subtle  sympathies  of  mind  ? 
For  the  spirit,  sharpest  and  strongest  when  disease  hath  rent  the  body, 
Hath  welcomed  kindred  spirits  in  nightly  visitations, 
Or  learnt  from  restless  ghosts  dark  secrets  of  the  living, 
And  helped  slow  justice  to  her  prey  by  the  dreadful  teaching  of  a  dream. 

Verily,  there  is  nothing  so  true,  that  the  damps  of  error  have  not  warp- 
ed it; 

Verily,  there  is  nothing  so  false,  that  a  sparkle  of  truth  is  not  in  it. 
For  the  enemy,  the  father  of  lies,  the  giant  Upas  of  creation, 
Whose  deadly  shade  hath  blasted  this  once  green  garden  of  the  Lord, 
Can  but  pervert  the  good,  but  may  not  create  the  evil ; 
He  destroyeth,  but  cannot  build ;  for  he  is  not  antagonist  deity  : 
Mighty  in  his  stolen  power,  yet  is  he  a  creature  and  a  subject ; 
Not  a  maker  of  abstract  wrong,  but  a  spoiler  of  concrete  right : 
The  fiend  hath  not  a  royal  crown ;  he  is  but  a  prowling  robber, 
Suffered,  for  some  mysterious  end,  to  haunt  the  King's  highway ; 
And  the  keen  sword  he  beareth,  once  was  a  simple  ploughshare ; 
Yea,  and  his  panoply  of  error  is  but  a  distortion  of  the  truth : 


OF  ANTICIPATION.  15 

The  sickle  that  once  reaped  righteousness,  beaten  from  its  useful  curve, 
With  axe,  and  spike,  and  bar,  headeth  the  marauder's  halbert. 
Seek  not  further,  O  man,  to  solve  the  dark  riddle  of  sin ; 
Suffice  it,  that  thine  own  bad  heart  is  to  thee  thine  origin  of  evil. 


OF    ANTICIPATION. 

THOU  hast  seen  many  sorrows,  travel-stained  pilgrim  of  the  world, 
But  that  which  hath  vexed  thee  most,  hath  been  the  looking  for  evi. ; 
And  though  calamities  have  crossed  thee,  and  misery  been  heaped  on  thy 

head, 

Yet  ills  that  never  happened,  have  chiefly  made  thee  wretched. 
The  sting  of  pain  and  the  edge  of  pleasure  are  blunted  by  long  expectation. 
For  the  gall  and  the  balm  alike  are  diluted  in  the  waters  of  patience : 
And  often  thou  sippest  sweetness,  ere  the  cup  is  dashed  from  thy  lip ; 
Or  drainest  the  gall  of  fear,  while  evil  is  passing  by  thy  dwelling. 
A  man  too  careful  of  danger  liveth  in  continual  torment ; 
But  a  cheerful  expecter  of  the  best  hath  a  fountain  of  joy  within  him : 
Yea,  though  the  breath  of  disappointment  should  chill  the  sanguine  heart, 
Speedily  gloweth  it  again,  warmed  by  the  live  embers  of  hope ; 
Though  the  black  and  heavy  surge  close  above  the  head  for  a  moment, 
Yet  the  happy  buoyancy  of  Confidence  rieeth  superior  to  Despair. 
Verily,  evils  may  be  courted,  may  be  wooed  and  won  by  distrust ; 
For  the  wise  Physician  of  our  weal  loveth  not  an  unbelieving  spirit ; 
And  to  those  giveth  he  good,  who  rely  on  his  hand  for  good ; 
And  those  leaveth  he  to  evil,  who  fear,  but  trust  him  not. 
Ask  for  good,  and  hope  it ;  for  the  ocean  of  good  is  fathomless ; 
Ask  for  good,  and  have  it ;  for  thy  Friend  would  see  thee  happy : 
But  to  the  timid  heart,  to  the  child  of  unbelief  and  dread, 
That  leaneth  on  his  own  weak  staff,  and  trusteth  the  sight  of  his  eyes, 
The  evil  he  feared  shall  come,  for  the  soil  is  ready  for  the  seed ; 
And  suspicion  hath  coldly  put  aside  the  hand  that  was  ready  to  help  him ; 
Therefore  look  up,  sad  spirit,  be  strong,  thou  coward  heart, 
Or  fear  will  make  thee  wretched,  though  evil  follow  not  behind : 
Cease  to  anticipate  misfortune, — there  are  still  many  chances  of  escape ; 
But  if  it  come,  be  courageous ;  face  it,  and  conquer  thy  calamity. 


16  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

There  is  not  an  enemy  so  stout  as  to  storm  and  take  the  fortress  of  the 

mind, 

Unless  its  infirmity  turn  traitor,  and  Fear  unbar  the  gates. 
The  valiant  standeth  as  a  rock,  and  the  billows  break  upon  him ; 
The  timorous  is  a  skiff  unmoored,  tost  arid  mocked  at  by  a  ripple ; 
The  valiant  holdeth  fast  to  good,  till  evil  wrench  it  from  him ; 
The  timorous  casteth  it  aside,  to  meet  the  worst  half  way  : 
Vet  oftentimes  is  evil  but  a  braggart,  that  provoketh  and  will  not  fight ; 
Or  the  feint  of  a  subtle  fencer,  who  measureth  his  thrust  elsewhere : 
Or  perchance  a  blessing  in  a  masque,  sent  to  try  thy  trust, 
The  precious  smiting  of  a  friend,  whose  frowns  are  all  in  love  :• 
Often  the  storm  threateneth,  but  is  driven  to  other  climes, 
And  the  weak  hath  quailed  in  fear,  while  the  firm  hath  been  glad  hi  his 

confidence. 


OF   HIDDEN  USES. 

THE  sea-wort  (8)  floating  on  the  waves,  or  rolled  up  high  along  the  shore, 
Ye  counted  useless  and  vile,  heaping  on  it  names  of  contempt : 
Yet  hath  it  gloriously  triumphed,  and  man  been  humbled  in  his  ignorance, 
For  health  is  in  the  freshness  of  its  savour,  and  it  cumbereth  the  beach 

with  wealth ; 

Comforting  the  tossings  of  pain  with  its  violet-tinctured  essence, 
And  by  its  humbler  ashes  enriching  many  proud. 
Be  this  then  a  lesson  to  thy  soul,  that  thou  reckon  nothing  worthless, 
Because  thou  heedest  not  its  use,  nor  knowest  the  virtues  thereof. 
And  herein,  as  thou  walkest  by  the  sea,  shall  weeds  be  a  type  and  an 

earnest 

Of  the  stored  and  uncounted  riches  lying  hid  in  all  creatures  of  God : 
There  be  flowers  making  glad  the  desert,  and  roots  fattening  the  soil, 
And  jewels  in  the  secret  deep,  scattered  among  groves  of  coral,  > 

And  comforts  to  crown  all  wishes,  and  aids  unto  every  need, 
Influences  yet  unthought,  and  virtues,  and  many  inventions, 
And  uses  above  and  around,  which  man  hath  not  yet  regarded. 
Not  long  to  charm  away  disease,  hath  the  crocus  (4)  yielded  up  its  bulb, 
Nor  the  willow  lent  its  bark,  nor  the  nightshade  its  vanquished  poison ; 


OF  HIDDEN  USES.  W 

Not  long  hath  the  twisted  leaf,  the  fragrant  gift  of  China, 

Nor  that  nutritious  root,  the  boon  of  far  Peru, 

Nor  the  many-coloured  dahlia,  nor  the  gorgeous  flaunting  cactus, 

Nor  the  multitude  of  fruits  and  flowers,  ministered  to  life  and  luxury ; 

Even  so,  there  be  virtues  yet  unknown  in  the  wasted  foliage  of  the  elm, 

In  the  sun-dried  harebell  of  the  downs,  and  the  hyacinth  drinking  in  the 

meadow, 

In  the  sycamore's  winged  fruit,  and  the  facet-cut  cones  of  the  cedar ; 
And  the  pansy  and  bright  geranium  live  not  alone  for  beauty, 
Nor  the  waxen  flower  of  the  arbute,  though  it  dieth  in  a  day, 
Nor  the  sculptured  crest  of  the  fir,  unseen  but  by  the  stars ; 
And  the  meanest  weed  of  the  garden  serveth  unto  many  uses, 
The  salt  tamarisk,  and  juicv  flag,  the  freckled  orchis,  and  the  daisy. 
The  world  may  laugn  at  famine  when  forest-trees  yield  bread, 
When  acorns  give  out  fragrant  drink,  (')  and  the  sap  of  the  linden  is  as 

fatness : 

For  every  green  herb,  from  the  lotus  to  the  darnel, 
Is  rich  with  delicate  aids  to  help  incurious  man. 

Still,  Mind  is  up  and  stirring,  and  pryeth  hi  the  corners  of  contrivance, 
Often  from  the  dark  recesses  picking  out  bright  seeds  of  truth : 
Knowledge  hath  clipped  the  lightning's  wings,  and  mewed  it  up  for  a 

purpose, 

Training  to  some  domestic  task  the  fiery  bird  of  heaven ; 
Tamed  is  the  spirit  of  the  storm,  to  slave  in  all  peaceful  arts, 
To  walk  with  husbandry  and  science ;  to  stand  in  the  vanguard  against 

death: 

And  the  chemist  balanceth  his  elements  with  more  than  magic  skill, 
Commanding  stones  that  they  be  bread,  and  draining  sweetness  out  of 

wormwood. 

Yet  man,  heedless  of  a  God,  counteth  up  vain  reckonings, 
Fearing  to  be  jostled  and  starved  out,  by  the  too  prolific  increase  of  hia 

kind; 

And  asketh,  in  unbelieving  dread,  for  how  few  years  to  come 
Will  the  black  cellars  of  the  world  yield  unto  him  fuel  for  his  winter. 
Might  not  the  wide-waste  sea  be  pent  within  narrower  bounds  ? 
Might  not  the  arm  of  diligence  make  the  tangled  wilderness  a  garden  ? 
And  for  aught  thou  canst  tell,  there  may  be  a  thousand  methods 
Of  comforting  thy  limbs  in  warmth,  thpugh  thou  kindle  not  a  spark. 


18  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Fear  not,  son  of  man,  for  thyself  nor  thy  seed :— with  a  multitude  is  plenty ; 
God's  blessing  giveth  increase,  and  with  it  larger  than  enough. 

Search  out  the  wisdom  of  nature,  there  is  depth  in  all  her  doings ; 

She  seemeth  prodigal  of  power,  yet  her  rules  are  the  maxims  of  frugality  t 

The  plant  relresheth  the  air,  and  the  earth  filtereth  the  water, 

And  dews  are  sucked  into  the  cloud,  dropping  fatness  on  the  world : 

She  hath,  on  a  mighty  scale,  the  general  use  of  all  things ; 

Yet  hath  she  specially  for  each  its  microscopic  purpose : 

There  is  use  in  the  prisoned  air,  that  swelleth  the  pods  of  the  laburnum ; 

Design  in  the  venomed  thorns,  that  sentinel  the  leaves  of  the  nettle ; 

A  final  cause  for  the  aromatic  gum,  tnat  congealeth  the  moss  around  a  rose : 

A  reason  for  each  blade  of  grass,  that  reareth  its  small  spire. 

How  knoweth  discontented  man  what  a  train  of  ills  might  follow, 

If  the  lowest  menial  of  nature  knew  not  her  secret  office  ? 

If  the  thistle  never  sprang  up,  to  mock  the  loose  husbandry  of  indolence, 

Or  the  pestilence  never  swept  away  an  unknown  curse  from  among  men  ? 

Would  ye  crush  the  buzzing  myriads  that  float  on  the  breath  of  the  evening  ? 

Would  ye  trample  the  creatures  of  God" that  people  the  rotting  fruit? 

Would  ye  suffer  no  mildew  forest  to  stain  the  unhealthy  wall, 

Nor  a  noisome  savour  to  exhale  from  the  pool  that  breedeth  disease  ? 

Pain  is  useful  unto  man,  for  it  teacheth  him  to  guard  his  life, 

And  the  fetid  vapours  of  the  fen  warn  him  to  fly  from  danger : 

And  the  meditative  mind,  looking  on,  winneth  good  food  for  its  hunger, 

Seeing  the  wholesome  root  bring  forth  a  poisonous  berry ; 

For  otherwhile  falleth  it  out  that  truth,  driven  to  extremities, 

Yieldeth  bitter  folly  as  the  spoilt  fruit  of  wisdom. 

O,  blinded  is  tliine  eye,  if  it  see  not  just  aptitude  in  all  things ; 

O,  frozen  is  thy  heart,  if  it  glow  not  with  gratitude  for  all  things : 

In  the  perfect  circle  of  creation  not  an  atom  could  be  spared, 

From  earth's  magnetic  zone  to  the  bindweed  round  a  hawthorn. 

The  sage,  and  the  beetle  at  his  feet,  hath  each  a  ministration  to  perform ; 
The  brier  and  the  palm  have  the  wages  of  life,  rendering  secret  service. 
Neither  is  it  thus  alone  with  the  definite  existences  of  matter ; 
But  motion  and  sound,  circumstance  and  quality,  yea,  all  things  have  their 

office. 
The  zephyr  playing  with  an  aspen  leaf,— the  earthquake  that  rendeth  • 

continent ; 


OF  COMPENSATION.  19 

The  moonbeam  silvering  a  ruined  arch, — the  desert  wave  dashing  up  a 

pyramid ;    • 

The  thunder  of  jarring  icebergs, — the  stops  of  a  shepherd's  pipe ; 
The  howl  of  the  tiger  in  the  glen, — and  the  wood-dove  calling  to  her  mate ; 
The  vulture's  cruel  rage, — the  grace  of  the  stately  swan  ;         >  ,*- 
The  fierceness  looking  from  the  lynx's  eye,  and  the  dull  stupor  of  the  sloth. 
To  these,  and  to  all,  is  there  added  each  its  USE,  though  man  considered! 

it  lightly ; 
For  PoweV  hath  ordained  nothing  which  Economy  saw  not  needful. 

All  things  being  are  essential  to  the  vast  ubiquity  of  God  ; 

Neither  is  tiiere  out;  uuiig  overnmcn,  nor  treea  trom  nonourable  servitude. 

Were  there  not  a  need-be  of  wisdom,  nothing  would  be  as  it  is ; 

For  essence  without  necessity  argueth  a  moral  weakness. 

We  look  through  a  glass  darkly,  we  catch  but  glimpses  of  truth ; 

But,  doubtless,  the  sailing  of  a  cloud  hath  Providence  to  its  pilot, 

Doubtless,  the  root  of  an  oak  is  gnarled  for  a  special  purpose, 

The  foreknown  station  of  a  rush  is  as  fixed  as  the  station  of  a  king, 

And  chaff  from  the  hand  of  a  winnower,  steered  as  the  stars  in  their  courses 

Man  liveth  onljt  in  himself,  but  the  Lord  liveth  in  all  things ; 

And  his  pervading  unity  qwckeneth  the  whole  creation. 

Man  doeth  one  thing  at  once,  nor  can  he  think  two  thoughts  together ; 

But  God  compasseth  all  things,  mantling  the  globe  like  air : 

And  we  render  homage  to  His  wisdom,  seeing  use  in  all  His  creatures, 

For,  perhance,  the  universe  would  die,  were  not  all  things  as  they  are. 


OF    COMPENSATION. 

EQUAL  is  the  government  of  heaven  in  allotting  pleasures  among  men, 
And  just  the  everlasting  law,  that  hath  wedded  happiness  to  virtue : . 
For  verily  on  all  things  else  broodeth  disappointment  with  care, 
That  childish  man  may  be  taught  the  shallowness  of  earthly  enjoyment. 
Wherefore,  ye  that  have  enough,  envy  ye  the  rich  man  his  abundance  ? 
Wherefore,  daughters  of  affluence,  covet  ye  the  cottager's  content? 
Take  the  good  with  the  evil,  for  ye  all  are  pensioners  of  God, 
And  none  may  choose  or  refuse  the  cup  his  wisdom  mixeth. 


SO  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  poor  man  rejoiceth  at  his  toil,  and  his  daily  bread  is  sweet  to  him : 
Content  with  present  good,  he  looketh  not  for  evil  to  the  future : 
The  rich  man  languisheth  with  sloth,  and  findeth  pleasure  in  nothing, 
He  locketh  up  care  with  his  gold,  and  feareth  the  fickleness  of  fortune 
Can  a  cup  contain  within  itself  the  measure  of  a  hucket  ? 
Or  the  straitened  appetites  of  man  drink  more  than  their  fill  of  luxury  fr 
There  is  a  limit  to  enjoyment,  though  the  sources  of  wealth  be  boundloMs; 
And  the  choicest  pleasures  of  life  lie  within  the  ring  of  moderation. 

Also  though  penury  and  pain  be  real  and  bitter  evils, 

I  would  reason  with  the  poor  afflicted,  for  he  is  not  so  wretched  as  he 

seemeth. 

What  right  hath  an  offender  to  complain,  though  others  escape  punishment, 
If  the  stripes  of  earned  misfortune  overtake  him  in  his  sin  ? 
Wherefore  not  endure  with  resignation  the  evils  thou  canst  not  avert  ? 
For  the  coward  pain  will  flee,  if  thou  meet  him  as  a  man : 
Consider,  whatever  be  thy  fate,  that  it  might  and  ought  to  have  been  worse, 
And  that  it  lieth  in  thy  hand  to  gather  even  blessings  from  afflictions  : 
Bethink  thee,  wherefore  were  they  sent  ?  and  hath  not  use  blunted  their 

keeness  ?  . 

Need  hope,  and  patience,  and  courage,  be  strangers  to  the  meanest  hovel  ? 
Thou  art  in  an  evil  case, — it  were  cruel  to  deny  to  thee  compassion, 
But  there  is  not  unmitigated  ill  in  the  sharpest  of  this  world's  sorrows  : 
I  touch  not  the  sore  of  thy  guilt ;  but  of  human  griefs  I  counsel  thee, 
Cast  off  the  weakness  of  regret,  and  gird  thee  to  redeem  thy  loss. 
Thou  hast  gained,  in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  self-knowledge,  patience,  and 

humility, 

And  these  be  as  precious  ore,  that  waiteth  the  skill  of  the  coiner : 
Despise  not  the  blessings  of  adversity,  nor  the  gain  thou  hast  earned  so 

hardly, 
And  now  thou  hast  drained  the  bitter,  take  heed  that  thou  lose  not  the 

sweet. 

Power  is  seldom  innocent,  and  envy  is  the  yoke-fellow  of  eminence  ; 

And  the  rust  of  the  miser's  riches  wasteth  his  soul  as  a  canker. 

The  poor  man  counteth  not  the  cost  at  which  such  wealth  hath  been  pur- 
chased ; 

He  would  be  on  the  mountain's  top  v/ithout  the  toil  and  travail  of  the 
climbing. 


OF  COMPENSATION.  21 

But  equity  demanded!  recompense  ;  for  high-place,  calumny  and  eare ; 

For  state,  comfortless  splendour  eating  out  the  heart  of  home   ; 

For  warrior  fame,  dangers  and  death ;  for  a  name  among  the  learned,  a 

spirit  overstrained ; 
For  honour  of  all  kinds,  the  goad  of  ambition ;  on  every  acquirement,  the 

tax  of  anxiety. 

He  that  would  change  with  another,  must  take  the  cup  as  it  is  mixed : 
Poverty,  with  largeness  of  heart  ;  or  a  full  purse,  with  a  sordid  spirit : 
Wisdom,  in  an  ailing  body  ;  or  a  common  mind  with  health  : 
Godliness,  with  man's  scorn ;  or  the  welcome  of  the  mighty,  with  guilt : 
Beauty,  with  a  fickle  heart ;  or  plainness  of  face,  with  affection. 
For  so  hath  Providence  determined,  that  a  man  shall  not  easily  discover 
Unmin^  ed  good  or  evil,  to  quicken  his  envy  or  abhorrence. 
A  bold  man  or  a  fool  must  he  be,  who  would  change  his  lot  with  another ; 
It  were  a  fearful  bargain,  and  mercy  hath  lovingly  refused  it ; 
For  we  know  the  worst  of  ourselves,  but  the  secrets  of  another  we  see  not, 
And  better  is  certain  bad,  than  the  doubt  and  dread  of  worse. 

Just,  and  strong,  and  opportune  is  the  moral  rule  of  God  ; 

Ripe  in  its  times,  firm  in  its  judgments,  equal  in  the  measure  of  its  gifts , 

Yet  men,  scanning  the  surface,  count  the  wicked  happy : 

Nor  heed  the  compensating  peace  which  gladdeneth  the  good  in  his  afflictions. 

They  see  not  the  frightful  dreams  that  crowd  a  bad  man's  pillow, 

Like  wreathed  adders  crawling  round  his  midnight  conscience ; 

They  hear  not  the  terrible  suggestions,  that  knock  at  the  portal  of  his  will, 

Provoking  to  wipe  away  from  life  the  one  weak  witness  of  the  deed ; 

They  know  not  the  torturing  suspicions  that  sting  his  panting  breast, 

When  the  clear  eye  of  penetration  quietly  readeth  off  the  truth. 

Likewise  of  the  good  what  know  they  ?  the  memories  bringing  pleasure, 

Shrined  in  the  heart  of  the  benevolent,  and  glistening  from  his  eye  ; 

The  calm  self-justifying  reason  that  establisheth  the  upright  in  his  purpose ; 

The  warm  and  gushing  bliss  that  floodeth  all  the  thoughts  of  the  religious. 

Many  a  beggar  at  the  cross-way,  or  gray-haired  shepherd  on  the  plain, 

Hath  more  of  the  end  of  all  wealth,  than  hundreds  who  multiply  the  means. 

Moreover,  a  moral  compensation  reacheth  to  the  secrecy  of  thought ; 
For  if  thou  wilt  think  evil  of  thy  neighbour,  soon  shalt  thou  have  him  for  thy 
foe- 


23  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  yet  he  may  know  nothing  of  the  cause  that  maketh  thee  distaatefdJ 

to  his  soul, — 

The  cause  of  unkind  suspicion,  for  which  thou  hast  thy  punishment : 
And  if  thou  think  of  him  in  charity,  wishing  or  praying  for  his  weal, 
He  shall  not.  guess  the  secret  charm  that  lureth  his  soul  to  love  thee. 
For  just  is  retributive  ubiquity  :  Samson  did  sin  with  Dalilah, 
And  his  eyes  and  captive  strength  were  forfeit  to  the  Philistine : 
Jacob  robbed  his  brother,  and  sorrow  was  his  portion  to  the  grave  : 
David  must  fly  before  his  foes,  yea,  though  his  guilt  is  covered : 
And  He,  who  seeming  old  in  youth,  (•)  was  marred  for  others'  sin, 
For  every  special  crime  must  bear  its  special  penalty  : 
By  luxury,  or  rashness,  or  vice,  the  member  that  hath  erred  sufiereth, 
And  therefore  the  Sacrifice  for  all  was  pained  at  every  pore. 

Alike  to  the  slave  and  his  oppressor  cometh  night  with  sweet  refreshment, 
And  half  of  the  life  of  the  most  wretched  is  gladdened  by  the  soothings  of 

sleep. 

Pain  addeth  zest  unto  pleasure,  and  teacheth  the  luxury  of  health : 
There  is  a  joy  in  sorrow,  which  none  but  a  mourner  can  know  ; 
Madness  hath  imaginary  bliss,  and  most  men  have  no  more  ; 
Age  hath  its  quiet  calm,  and  youth  enjoyeth  not  for  haste ; 
Daily,  in  the  midst  of  its  beatitude,  the  righteous  soul  is  vexed ; 
And  even  the  misery  of  guilt  doth  attain  to  the  bliss  of  pardon. 
Who,  in  the  face  of  the  born-blind,  ever  looked  on  other  than  content  ? 
And  the  deaf  ear  listeneth  within  to  the  silent  music  of  the  heart. 
There  is  evil  poured  upon  the  earth  from  the  overflowings  of  corruption,— - 
Sickness,  and  poverty,  and  pain,  and  guilt,  and  madness,  and  sorrow  ; 
But,  as  the  water  from  a  fountain  riseth  and  sinketh  to  its  level, 
Ceaselessly  toileth  justice  to  equalize  the  lots  of  men  : 
For,  habit,  and  hope,  and  ignorance,  and  the  being  but  one  of  a  multitude 
And  strength  of  reason  in  the  sage,  and  dulness  of  feeling  in  the  fool, 
And  the  light  elasticity  of  courage,  and  the  calm  resignation  of  meekness 
And  the  stout  endurance  of  decision,  and  the  weak  carelessness  of  apathy 
And  helps  invisible  but  real,  and  ministerings  not  unfelt, 
Angelic  aid  with  worldly  discomfiture,  bodily  loss  with  the  soul's  gain, 
Secret  griefs,  and  silent  joys,  thorns  in  the  flesh,  and  cordials  for  the  spirit, 
( — Short  of  the  insuperable  barrier  dividing  innocence  from  guilt,—) 
^jo  far  to  level  all  things,  by  the  gracious  rule  of  Compensation. 


OF  INDIRECT  INFLUENCES.  23 


OF    INDIRECT    INFLUENCES. 

FACE  thy  foe  in  the  field,  and  perchance  thou  wilt  meet  thy  master. 

For  the  sword  is  chained  to  his  wrist,  and  his  armour  buckled  for  the  battle ; 

But  find  him  when  he  looketh  not  for  thee,  aim  between  the  joints  of  his 

harness, 

And  the  crest  of  his  pride  will  be  humbled,  his  cruelty  will  bite  the  dust 
Heard  not  a  lion  in  his  den,  but  fashion  the  secret  pitfall, 
So  shall  thou  conquer  the  strong,  thyself  triumphing  in  weakness. 
The  hurricane  rageth  fiercely,  and  the  promontory  standeth  in  its  might, 
Breasting  the  artillery  of  heaven,  as  darts  glance  from  the  crocodile  ; 
But  the  small  continual  creeping  of  the  silent  footsteps  of  the  sea 
Mineth  the  wall  of  adamant,  and  stealthily  compasseth  its  ruin. 
The  weakness  of  accident  is  strong,  where  the  strength  of  design  is  weak* 
And  a  casual  analogy  convince:!},  when  a  mind  beareth  not  argument. 
Will  not  a  man  listen  ?  be  silent ;  and  prove  thy  maxim  by  example : 
Never  fear,  thou  losest  not  thy  hold,  though  thy  mouth  doth  not  render  a 

reason. 

Contend  not  in  wisdom  with  a  fool,  for  thy  sense  maketh  much  of  his  conceit ; 
And  some  errors  never  would  have  thriven,  had  it  not  been  for  learned 

refutation ; 

Yea,  much  evil  hath  been  caused  by  an  honest  wrestler  for  truth, 
And  much  of  unconscious  good,  by  the  man  that  hated  wisdom : 
For  the  intellect  judgeth  closely,  and  if  thou  overstep  thy  argument, 
Or  seem  not  consistent  with  thyself,  or  fail  in  thy  direct  purpose, 
The  ciind  that  went  along  with  theo,  shall  stopfrnd  return  without  thee, 
And  thou  shalt  have  raised  a  foe,  where  thou  mightest  have  won  a  Mend. 

Hints,  shrewdly  strown,  mightily  disturb  the  spirit, 

Where  a  barefaced  accusation  would  be  too  ridiculous  for  calumny : 

The  sly  suggestion  toucheth  nerves,  and  nerves  contract  the  fronds, 

And  the  sensitive  mimosa  of  affection  trembleth  to  its  root ; 

And  friendships,  the  growth  of  half  a  century,  those  oaks  that  laugh  at 

storms, 

Have  been  cankered  in  a  night  by  a  worm,  even  as  the  prophet's  gourd. 
Hast  thou  loved,  and  not  known  jealousy  ?  for  a  sidelong  look 
Can  please  or  pain  thy  heart  more  than  the  multitude  of  proofs : 


34 

Hast  thou  hated,  and  not  learned  that  tny  silent  scorn 

Doth  deeper  aggravate  thy  foe  than  loud-cursing  malice  ? — 

A  wise  wise  man  prevaileth  in  power,  for  he  screeneth  his  battering  engin^ 

But  a  fool  tilteth  headlong,  and  his  adversary  is  aware. 

Behold  those  broken  arches,  that  oriel  all  unglazed, 

That  crippled  line  of  columns  bleaching  in  the  sun, 

The  delicate  shaft  stricken  midway,  and  the  flying  buttress 

Idly  stretching  forth  to  hold  up  tufted  ivy  : 

Thinkest  thou  the  thousand  eyes  that  shine  with  rapture  on  a  ruin, 

Would  have  looked  with  half  their  wonder  on  the  perfect  pile  ? 

And  wherefore  not — but  that  light  hints,  suggesting  unseen  beauties, 

Fill  the  complacent  gazer  with  self-grown  conceits  ? 

And  so,  the  rapid  sketch  winneth  more  praise  to  the  painter, 

Than  the  consummcite  work  elaborated  on  his  easel : 

And  so,  the  Helvetic  lion  caverned  in  the  living  rock 

Hath  more  of  majesty  and  force,  than  if  upon  a  marble  pedestal. 

Tell  me,  daughter  of  taste,  what  hath  charmed  thine  ear  in  music  ? 

Is  it  the  laboured  theme,  the  curious  fugue  or  cento, — 

Nor  rather  the  sparkles  of  intelligence  flushing  from  some  strange  note 

Or  the  soft  melody  of  sounds  far  sweeter  for  simplicity  ? 

Tell  me,  thou  son  of  science,  what  hath  filled  thy  mind  in  reading  ? 

Is  it  the  volume  of  detail  where  all  is  orderly  set  down, 

And  they  that  read  may  run,  nor  need  to  stop  and  think  ; 

The  book  carefully  accurate,  that  counteth  thee  no  better  than  a  fool, 

Gorging  the  passive  mind  with  annotated  notes ; — 

Nor  rather  the  half-suggested  thoughts,  the  riddles  thou  mayest  solve, 

The  fair  ideas,  coyly  peeping  like  young  loves  out  of  roses, 

The  quaint  arabesque  conceptions,  half  cherub  and  half  flower, 

The  light  analogy,  or  deep  allusion,  trusted  to  thy  learning, 

The  confidence  implied  in  thy  skill  to  unravel  meaning  mysteries  ? 

For  ideas  are  ofttimes  shy  of  the  close  furniture  of  words, 

And  thought,  wherein  only  is  power,  may  be  best  conveyed  by  a  suggestion , 

The  Hash  that  lighteth  up  a  valley,  amid  the  dark  midnight  of  a  storm, 

Ooineth  the  mind  with  that  scene  sharper  than  fifty  summers. 

A  worldly  man  boasteth  in  his  pride  that  there  is  no  power  but  of  money : 

And  he  judgeth  the  characters  of  men  by  the  differing  measures  of  their 

means :  »•«> 


OF  INDIRECT  INFLUENCES.  25 

He  stealeth  all  goodly  names,  as  worth,  and  value,  and  substance, 
Which  be  the  ancient  heritage  of  Virtue,  but  such  an  one  ascribeth  unto 

Wealth : 

He  spurneth  the  needy  sage,  whose  wisdom  hath  enriched  nations, 
And  the  sons  of  poverty  and  learning,  without  whom  earth  were  a  desert . 
Music,  the  soother  of  cares,  the  tuner  of  the  dank  discordant  heart-strings, 
It  is  nought  unto  such  an  one  but  sounds,  whereby  some  earn  their  living: 
The  poem,  and  the  picture,  and  the  statue,  to  him  seem  idle  baubles, 
Which  wealth  condescendeth  to  favour,  to  gain  him  the  name  of  patron. 
But  little  wotteth  he  the  might  of  the  means  his  folly  despiseth ; 
He  considereth  not  mat  these  be  the  wires  which  move  the  puppets  of  the 

world. 
A  sentence  hath   formed  a  character,  (T)  and  a  character  subdued  a 

kingdom ; 

A  picture  hath  ruined  souls,  or  raised  them  to  commerce  with  the  skies : 
The  pen  hath  shaken  nations,  and  stablished  the  world  in  peace ; 
And  the  whole  full  horn  of  plenty  been  filled  from  the  vial  of  science. 
He  regardeth  man  as  sensual,  the  monarch  of  created  matter, 
And  careth  not  aught  for  mind,  that  linketh  him  with  spirits  unseen:    . 
He  feedeth  his  carcass  and  is  glad,  though  his  soul  be  faint  and  famished. 
And  the  dull  brute  power  of  the  body  bindeth  him  a  captive  to  himself. 

Man  liveth  from  hour  to  hour,  and  knoweth  not  what  may  happen ; 

Influences  circle  him  on  all  sides,  and  yet  must  he  answer  for  his  actiora, 

For  the  being  that  is  master  of  himself,  bendeth  events  to  his  will, 

But  a  slave  to  selfish  passion  is  the  wavering  creature  of  circumstance. 

To  this  man  temptation  is  a  poison,  to  that  man  it  addeth  vigour  ; 

And  each  may  render  to  himself  influences  good  or  evil. 

As  thou  directest  the  power,  harm  or  advantage  will  follow ; 

And  the  torrent  that  swept  the  valley,  may  be  led  to  turn  a  mill ; 

The  wild  electric  flash,  that  could  have  kindled  comets, 

May  by  the  ductile  wire  give  ease  to  an  ailing  child. 

For  outward  matter  or  event,  fashion  not  the  character  within, 

But  each  man,  yielding  or  resisting,  fashioneth  his  mind  for  himself. 

Some  have  said,  What  is  in  a  name  ? — most  potent  plastic  influence  ; 
A  name  is  a  word  of  character,  and  repetition  stablisheth  the  fact ; 
A  word  of  .rebuke,  or  of  honour,  tending  to  obscurity  or  fame  ; 
And  greatest  is  the  power  of  a  name,  when  its  power  is  least  suspected . 
2 


36  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  low  name  is  a  thorn  in  the  side,  that  hindereth  the  footman  in  his  ran 

ning; 

But  a  name  of  ancestral  renown  shall  often  put  the  racer  to  his  speed. 
Few  men  have  grown  unto  greatness  whose  names  are  allied  to  ridicule, 
And  many  would  never  have  been  profligate,  but  for  the  splendour  of  a 

name. 

A  wise  man  scorneth  nothing,  be  it  never  so  small  or  homely, 
For  he  knoweth  not  the  secret  laws  that  may  bind  it  to  great  effects. 
The  world  in  its  boyhood  was  credulous,  and  dreaded  the  vengeance  of 

the  stars, 
W  world  in  its  dotage  is  not  wiser,  fearing  not  the  influence  of  small 

things : 

Ha>  «ta  govern  not  the  soul,  nor  guide  the  destinies  of  man, 
But  b  JJea,  lighter  than  straws,  are  levers  in  the  building  up  of  character. 
A  man  hh.th  the  tiller  in  his  hand,  and  may  steer  against  the  current, 
Or  may  glide?  down  idly  with  the  stream,  till  his  vessel  founder  in  the  whirl- 
pool. 


OF    MEMORY. 

WHERE  art  thou,  storehouse  of  the  mind,  garner  of  facts  and  fenciea,— 

fn  what  strange  firmament  are  laid  the  beams  of  thine  airy  chambers  1 

Or  art  thou  that  small  cavern,  (*)  the  centre  of  the  rolling  brain, 

W^ere  still  one  sandy  morsel  testifieth  man's  original  1 

Or  hast  thou  some  grand  globe,  some  common  hall  of  intellect, 

Some  spacious  market-place  for  thought,  where  all  do  bring  their  wares, 

And  gladly  rescued  from  the  littleness,  the  narrow  closet  of  a  self, 

The  privileged  soul  hath  large  access,-coming  in  the  livery  of  learning  1 

live  we  as  isolated  worlds,  perfect  in  substance  and  spirit, 

Each  a  sphere,  with  a  special  mind,  prisoned  in  its  shell  of  matter? 

Or  rather,  as  converging  radiations,  parts  of  one  majestic  whole, 

Beams  of  the  Sun,  streams  from  the  River,  branches  of  the  mighty  Tree, 

Some  bearing  fruit,  some  bearing  leaves,  and  some  diseased  and  barren,— 

Some  for  the  feast,  some  for  the  floor,  and  some — how  many — for  the  fire? 

Memory  may  be  but  a  power  of  coming  to  the  treasury  of  Fact, 


OF  MEMORY.  27 

A  momentary  self-desertion,  an  absence  in  spirit  from  the  now, 

An  actual  coursing  hither  and  thither,  by  the  mind,  slipped  from  its  leash, 

A  life,  as  in  the  mystery  of  dreams,  spent  within  the  limits  of  a  moment. 

A  brutish  man  knoweth  not  this,  neither  can  a  fool  comprehend  it, 
But  there  be  secrets  of  the  memory,  deep,  wondrous,  and  fearful. 
Were  I  at  Petra,  could  I  not  declare,  My  soul  hath  been  here  before  me  ? 
Am  I  strange  to  the  columned  halls,  the  calm  dead-grandeur  of  Palmyra  ? 
Know  I  not  thy  mount,  O  Carmel !     Have  I  not  voyaged  on  the  Danube? 
Nor  seen  the  glare  of  Arctic  snows, — nor  the  black  tents  of  the  Tartar  ? 
Is  it  then  a  dream,  that  I  remember  the  faces  of  them  of  old, 
While  wandering  in  the  grove  with  Plato,  and  listening  to  Zeno  in  the 

porch? 
Paul  have  I  seen,  and  Pythagoras,  and  the  Stagyrite  hath  spoken  me 

friendly, 

And  His  meek  eye  looked  also  upon  me,  standing  with  Peter  in  the  palace. 
Athens  and  Rome,  Persepolis  and  Sparta,  am  I  not  a  freeman  of  you  all  ? 
And  chiefly  can  my  yearning  heart  forget  thee,  O  Jerusalem  ? 
For  the  strong  magic  of  conception,  mingled  with  the  fumes  of  memory, 
Giveth  me  a  life  in  all  past  time,  yea,  and  addeth  substance  to  the  future. 
Be  ye  my  judges,  imaginative  minds,  full-fledged  to  soar  into  the  sun, 
Whose  grosser  natural  thoughts  the  chemistry  of  wisdom  hath  sublimed, 
Have  ye  not  confessed  to  a  feeling,  a  consciousness,  strange  and  vague, 
That  ye  have  gone  this  way  before,  and  walk  again  your  daily  life, 
Tracking  an  old  routine,  and  on  some  foreign  strand, 
Where  bodily  ye  have  never  stood,  finding  your  own  footsteps  ? 
Hath  not  at  times  some  recent  friend  looked  out  an  old  familiar, 
Some  newest  circumstance  or  place  teemed  as  with  ancient  memories  ? 
A  startling  sudden  flash  lighteth  up  all  for  an  instant, 
And  then  it  is  quenched,  as  in  darkness,  and  leaveth  the  cold  spirit  tremb- 
ling. 

Memory  is  nofc  wisdom ;  idiots  can  rote  volumes : 

Yet,  what  is  wisdom  without  memory  ?  a  babe  that  is  strangled  in  its  birtu , 
The  path  of  the  swallow  hi  the  air ;  the  path  of  the  dolphin  in  the  waters  ; 
A  cask  running  out ;  a  bottomless  chasm :  such  is  wisdom  without 

memory. 

There  be  many  wise,  who  cannot  store  their  knowledge ; 
Yet  from  themselves  are  they  satisfied,  for  the  fountain  is  within  • 


28  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

There  be  many  who  store,  but  have  no  wisdom  of  their  own, 
Lumbering  their  armory  with  weapons  their  muscles  cannot  lift : 
There  be  many  thieves  and  robbers,  who  glean  and  store  unlawfully, 
Calling  in  to  memory's  help  some  cunningly  devised  Cabala  : 
But  to  feed  the  mind  with  fatness,  to  fill  thy  granary  with  corn, 
Nor  clog  with  chaff  and  straw  the  threshing-floor  of  reason, 
Reap  the  ideas,  and  house  them  well ;  but  leave  the  words  high  stubble, 
Strive  to  store  up  what  was  thought,  despising  what  was  said. 
For  the  mind  is  a  spirit,  and  drinketh  in  ideas,  as  flame  melteth  into  flame , 
But  for  words,  it  must  pack  them  as  on  floors,  cumbrous  and  perishable 
merchandise. 

To  be  pained  for  a  minute,  to  fear  for  an  hour,  to  hope  for  a  week — how 

long  and  weary ! 

But  to  remember  fourscore  years,  is  to  look  back  upon  a  day. 
An  avenue  seemeth  to  lengthen  in  the  eyes  of  the  wayfaring  man, 
But  let  him  turn,  those  stationed  elms  crowd  up  within  a  yard ; 
Pace  the  lamp-lit  streets  of  some  sleeping  city, 

The  multitude  of  cressets  shall  seem  one,  in  the  false  picture  of  per- 
spective ; 

Even  so,  in  sweet  treachery,  dealeth  the  aged  with  himself, 
He  gazeth  on  the  green  hill-tops,  while  the  marshes  beneath  are  hidden ; 
And  the  partial  telescope  of  memory  pierceth  the  blank  between, 
To  look  with  lingering  love  at  the  fair  star  of  childhood. 
Life  is  as  the  current  spark  on  the,  miner's  wheel  of  flints : 
Whiles  it  spinneth  there  is  light ;  stop  it,  all  is  darkness  : 
Life  is  as  a  morsel  of  frankincense  burning  in  the  hall  of  Eternity ; 
It  is  gone,  but  its  odorous  cloud  curleth  to  the  lofty  roof ! 
Life  is  as  a  lump  of  salt,  melting  in  the  temple-laver ; 
It  is  gone, — yet  its  savour  reacheth  to  the  farthest  atom ; 
Even  so,  for  evil  or  for  good,  is  life  the  criterion  of  a  man, 
For  its  memories  of  sanctity  or  sin  pervade  all  the  firmament  of  being, 
There  is  but  the  flitting  moment  wherein  to  hope  or  to  enjoy, 
But  in  the  calendar  of  memory,  that  moment  is  all  time. 


THE  DREAM  OF  AMBITION.  99 


THE    DREAM    OF    AMBITIQN. 

I  LEFT  the  happy  fields  that  smile  around  the  village  of  Content, 

And  sought  with  wayward  feet  the  torrid  desert  of  Ambition. 

Long  time,  parched  and  weary,  I  travelled  that  burning  sand, 

And  the  hooded  basilisk  and  adder  were  strewed  in  my  way  for  palms ; 

Black  scorpions  thronged  me  Tound,  with  sharp  uplifted  stings, 

Seeming  to  mock  me  as  I  ran  ;  (then  I  guessed  it  was  a  dream, — • 

But  life  is  oft  so  like  a  dream,  we  know  not  where  we  are.) 

So  I  toiled  on,  doubting  in  myself,  up  a  steep  gravel  cliff, 

Whose  yellow  summit  shot  up  far  into  the  brazen  sky ; 

And  quickly,  I  was  wafted  to  the  top,  as  upon  unseen  wings 

Carrying  me  upward  like  a  leaf:  (then  I  thought  it  was  a  dream, — • 

Yet  life  is  oft  so  like  a  dream,  we  know  not  where  we  are.) 

So  I  stood  on  the  mountain,  and  behold !  before  me  a  giant  pyramid, 

And  I  clomb  with  eager  haste  its  high  and  difficult  steps ; 

For,  I  longed,  like  another  Belus,  to  mount  up,  yea  to  heaven, 

Nor  sought  I  rest  until  my  feet  had  spurned  the  crest  of  earth. 

Then  I  sat  on  my  granite  throne  under  the  burning  sun, 

And  the  world  lay  smiling  beneath  me,  but  I  was  wrapt  in  flames ; 

(And  I  hoped  in  glimmering  consciousness,  that  all  this  torture  was  a 

dream, — 

Yet  life  is  oft  so  like  a  dream,  we  know  not  where  we  are.) 
And  anon,  as  I  sat  scorching,  the  pyramid  shuddered  to  its  root, 
And  I  felt  the  quarried  mass  leap  from  its  sand  foundations  : 
Awhile  it  tottered  and  tilted,  as  raised  by  invisible  levers,— 
(And  now  my  reason  spake  with  me ;  I  knew  it  was  a  dream ; 
Yet  I  hushed  that  whisper  into  silence,  for  I  hoped  to  learn  of  wisdom, 
By  tracking  up  my  truant  thoughts,  whereunto  they  might  lead.) 
And  suddenly,  as  rolling  upon  wheels,  adown  the  cliff  it  rushed, 
And  I  thought,  in  my  hot  brain,  of  the  Muscovites'  icy  slope ; 
A  thousand  yards  in  a  moment  we  ploughed  the  sandy  seas, 
And  crushed  those  happy  fields,  and  that  smiling  village, 
And  onward,  as  a  living  thing,  still  rushed  my  mighty  throne, 
Thundering  along,  and  pounding,  as  it  went,  the  millions  in  my  way: 
Before  me  all  was  life,  and  joy,  and  full-blown  summer, 


30  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Behind  me  death  and  woe,  the  desert  and  simoom. 
Then  I  wept  and  shrieked  aloud,  for  pity  and  for  fear ; 
But  might  not  gtop,  for,  comet-like,  flew  on  the  maddened  mass 
Over  the  crashing  cities,  and  falling  obelisks  and  towers, 
And  columns,  razed  as  by  a  scythe,  and  high  doomes,  shivered  as  an  egg- 
shell, 

And  deep  embattled  ranks,  and  women,  crowded  in  the  streets, 
And  children,  kneeling  as  for  mercy,  and  all  I  had  ever  loved, 
Yea,  over  all,  mine  awful  throne  rushed  on  with  seeming  instinct, 
And  over  the  crackling  forests,  and  over  the  rugged  beach, 
And  on  with  a  terrible  hiss  through  the  foaming  wild  Atlantic 
That  roared  around  me  as  I  sat,  but  could  not  quench  my  spirit,— 
Still  oh,,  through  startled  solitudes  we  shattered  the  pavement  of  the  sea, 
Down,  down,  to  that  central  vault,  the  bolted  doors  of  hell ; 
And  these,  with  horrid  shock,  my  huge  throne  battered  in, 
And  on  to  the  deepest  deep,  where  the  fierce  flames  were  hottest, 
Blazing  tenfold  as  conquering  furiously  the  seas  that  rushed  in  with  me,— 
And  there  I  stopped  ;  and  a  fearful  voice  shouted  in  mine  ear, 
"  Behold  the  home  of  Discontent ;  behold  the  rest  of  Ambition  !" 


OF    SUBJECTION. 

LAW  hath  dominion  over  all  things,  over  universal  mind  and  matter ; 
For  there  are  reciprocities  of  right,  which  no  creature  can  'gainsay. 
Unto  each  there  was  added  by  its  Maker,  in  the  perfect  chain  of  being, 
Dependencies  and  sustentations,  accidents,  and  qualities,  and  powers  ; 
And  each  must  fly  forward  in  tbe  curve,  unto  which  it  was  forced  from  the 

beginning  ; 

Each  must  attract  and  repel,  or  the  monarchy  of  Order  is  no  more.  . 

Laws  are  essential  emanations  from  the  self-poised  character  of  God 
And  they  radiate  from  that  sun,  to  the  circling  edges  of  creation. 
Verily,  the  mighty  Lawgiver  hath  subjected  Himself  unto  laws, 
And  God- is  the  primal  grand  example  of  free  unstrained  obedience : 
His  perfectior   is  limited  by  right,  and  cannot  trespass  into  wrong, 
Because  He  hath  established  Himself  as  the  fountain  of  only  good, 
And  in  thus  much  is  bounded,  that  the  evil  hath  he  left  unto  another, 


OF  SUBJECTION.  31 

And  that  dark  other  hath  usurped  the  evil  which  Omnwotence  laid  down. 
Unto  God  there  exist  impossibilities  ;  for  the  True  One  cannot  lie, 
Nor  the  Wise  One  wander  from  the  track  which  he  hath  determin9d  for 

himself  : 

For  his  will  was  purposed  from  eternity,  strong  hi  the  love  of  order  ; 
And  that  will  altereth  not,  as  the  kw  of  the  Medes  and  Persians. 
God  is  the  origin  of  order,  and  the  first  exemplar  of  his  precept  ; 
For  there  is  subordination  of  his  Essence,  self-guided  unto  holiness  ; 
And  there  is  subordination  of  his  Persons,  in  "due  procession  of  dignity; 
For  the  Son,  as  a  son,  is  subject  ;  and  to  him  doth  the  Spirit  minister  ; 
But  these  things  be  mysteries  to  man,  he  cannot  reach  nor  fathom  thorn, 
And  ever  must  he  speak  in  paradox,  when  labouring  to  expound  his  God  ; 
For,  behold,  God  is  Alone,  mighty  in  unshackled  freedom  ; 
And  with  those  wondrous  Persons  abideth  eternal  equality. 

So  men.  start  ye  from  the  fountain  and  follow  the  river  of  existence, 

For  its  current  is  bounded  throughout  by  the  banks  of  just  subordination  ; 

Thrones,  and  dominions,  and  powers,  Archangels,  Cherubim  and  Seraphim, 

Angels,  and  flaming  ministers,  and  breathing  chariots  and  harps. 

For  there  are  degrees  in  heiven,  and  varied  capabilities  of  bliss, 

And  steps  in  the  ladder  of  intelligence,  and  ranks  in  approaches  to  Per- 

fection : 

Doubtless,  reverence  is  given,  as  -their  due,  to  the  masters  in  wisdom  ; 
Doubtless,  there  are  who  serve  ;  or  a  throne  would  have  small  glory. 
Regard  now  the  universe  of  matter,  the  substance  of  visible  creation, 
Which  of  old,  with  well-observing  truth,  the  Greek  hath  surnamed 


Where  is  there  an  atom  out  of  place  ?  or  a  particle  that  yieldeth  not  obe- 

dience ? 

Where  is  there  a  fragment  that  is  free  ?  or  one  thing  the  equal  of  another? 
The  chain  is  unbroken  down  to  man,  and  beyond  him  the  links  are  perfect  : 
But  he  standeth  solitary  sin,  a  marvel  of  permitted  chaos. 

And  shall  this  seeming  error  in  the  scale  of  due  subordination 

Be  a  spot  of  desert  unreclaimed,  in  the  midst  of  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord  7 

Shall  his  presumptuous  pride  snap  the  safe  tether  of  connexion, 

And  his  blind  selfish  folly  refuse  the  burden  of  maintenance  ? 

O  man,  thou  art  a  creature  ;  boast  not  thyself  above  the  law  : 

Think  not  of  thyself  as  free  :  thou  art  bound  in  the  trammels  of  dependence 


52  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

What  is  the  sum  of  thy  duty,  but  obedience  to  righteous  rule, 

To  the  great  commanding  oracle,  uttered  by  delegated  organs  ? 

Thou  canst  not  render  homage  to  abstract  Omnipresent  power, 

Save  through  the  concrete  symbol  of  visible  ordained  authority. 

Those  who  obey  not  man  are  oftenest  found  rebels  againest  God ; 

And  seldom  is  the  delegate  so  bold,  as  to  order  what  he  knoweth  to  be 

wrong. 

Yet  mark  me,  proud  gainsayer !  I  say  not,  obey  unto  sin ; 
But,  where  the  Principal  is  silent,  take  heed  that  thou  despise  not  the 

Deputy : 

And  he  that  loveth  order  will  bless  thee  for  thy  faith, 
If  thou  recognize  his  sanction  in  the  powers  that  fashion  human  laws. 
Thou,  the  vicegerent  of  the  Lord,  his  high  anointed  image, 
Toward  whom  a  good  man's  loyalty  floweth  from  the  hearts  of  his  religion, 
Thou,  whose  deep  responsibilities  are  fathomed  by  a  nation's  prayers, 
Whom  wise  men  fear  for  while  they  live,  and  envy  thee  nothing  but  thy 

virtues, 

From  thy  dizzy  pinnacle  of  greatness,  remember  thou  also  art  a  subject, 
And  the  throne  of  thine  earthly  glory  is  itself  but  the  footstool  of  thy  God. 
The  homage  thy  kingdoms  yield  thee,  regard  thou  as  yielded  unto  Him ; 
And  while  girt  with  all  the  majesty  of  state,  consider  thee  the  Lord's  chief 

servant ; 

So  shall  thou  prosper,  and  be  strong,  grafted  on  the  strength  of  another ; 
So  shall  thy  virgin  heart  be  happy,  in  being  humble. 
And  thou  shall  flourish  as  an  oak,  the  monarch  of  thine  island  forests, 
Whose  deep-dug  roots  are  twisled  around  Ihe  stout  ribs  of  the  globe, 
That  mocketh  at  the  fury  of  the  storm,  and  rejoiceth  in  sufhmer  sunshine, 
Glad  in  tne  smiles  of  heaven,  and  great  in  the  stability  of  earth. 

A  ruler  hath  not  power  for  himself,  neither  is  his  pomp  for  his  pride ; 

But  beneath  the  ermine  of  his  office  should  he  wear  the  rough  hair-cloth 
of  humility. 

Nevertheless,  every  way  obey  him,  so  thou  break  not  a  higher  command- 
ment; 

For  Nero  wav  an  evil  king,  yet  Paul  prescribeth  subjection. 

If  the  rulers  c  f  a  nation  be  holy,  the  Lord  hath  blessed  thai  nation ; 

If  they  be  lewd  and  impious,  chastisement  hath  come  upon  that  people : 

For  the  bitterest  scourge  of  a  land  is  ungodliness  in  them  that  govern  it, 

And  the  guilt  of  the  sons  of  Josiah  drove  Israel  weeping  into  Babylon. 


OF  SUBJECTION.  33 

* 

Yet  be  thou  resolute  against  them,  if  they  change  the  mandates  of  thy  God. 

If  they  touch  the  ark  of  his  covenant,  wherein  all  his  mercies  are  en- 
shrined: 

Be  resolute,  but  not  rebellious ;  lest  thou  be  of  the  company  of  Korah : 

Set  thy  face  against  them  as  a  flint :  but  be  not  numbered  with  Abiram. 

Daniel  nobly  disobeyed  ;  but  not  from  a  spirit  of  sedition ; 

And  Azarias  shouted  from  the  furnace, — I  will  not  bow  down,  O  KING. 

If  truth  must  be  sacrificed  to  unity,  then  faithfulness  were  folly ; 

If  man  must  be  obeyed  before  God,  the  martyrs  have  bled  in  vain : 

Yet  none  of  that  blessed  army  reviled  the  rulers  of  the  land  ; 

They  were  loud  and  bold  against  the  sin,  but  bent  before  ths  ensign  01 
authority. 

Honesty,  scorning  compromise,  walketh  most  suitably  with  Reverence ; 

Otherwise  righteous  daring  may  show  but  as  obstinate  rebellion  ; 

Therefore,  suffer  not  thy  censure  to  lack  the  savour  of  courtesy, 

And  remember  the  mortal  sinneth,  but  the  staff  of  his  power  is  from  Go 

Man,  thou  hast  a  social  spirit,  and  art  deeply  indebted  to  thy  kind : 
Therefore  claim  not  all  thy  rights  ;  but  yield,  for  thine  own  advantage. 
Society  is  a  chain  of  obligations,  and  its  links  must  support  each  other : 
The  branch  cannot  but  wither,  that  is  cut  from  the  parent  vine. 
Wouldst  thou  be  a  dweller  in  the  woods,  and  cast  away  the  cords  that  bind 

thee, 

Seeking,  in  thy  bitterness  or  pride,  to  be  exiled  from  thy  fellows  ? 
Behold,  the  beasts  shall  hunt  thee,  weak,  naked,  houseless  outcast ; 
Disease  and  D^ath  shall  track  thee  out,  as  bloodhounds,  in  the  wilder- 
ness: 

Better  to  be  vilest  of  the  vile,  in  the  hated  company  of  men, 
Than  to  live  a  solitary  wretch,  dreading  and  wanting  all  things ; 
Better  to  be  chained  to  thy  labour,  in  the  dusky  thoroughfares  of  life, 
Than  to  reign  monarch  of  Sloth,  in  lonesome  savage  freedom. 

Whence  then  cometh  the  doctrine  that  all  should  be  equal  and  free  ?-~ 
It  is  the  lie  that  crowded  hell,  when  Seraphs  flung  away  subjection. 
No  man  is  his  neighbour's  equal,  for  no  two  minds  are  similar, 
And  accidents,  alike  with  qualities,  have  every  shade  but  sameness : 
The  lightest  atom  of  difference  shall  destroy  the  nice  balance  of  equality, 
AM  all  things,  from  without  and  from  within,  make  one  man  to  differ  from 
another. 

a* 


J4  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

« 

We  are  equal  and  free !  was  the  watchword  that  spirited  the  legions  of 

Satan, 
We  are  equal  and  free !  is  the  double  lie  that  entrappeth  to  him  conscripts 

from  earth : 
The  messengers  of  that  dark  despot  will  pander  to  thy  license  and  thy 

pride, 
And  draw  thee  from  the  crowd  where  thou  art  safe,  to  seize  thee  in  the 

solitary  desert. 

Woe  unto  him  whose  heart  the  syren  song  of  Liberty  hath  charmed ; 
Woe  unto  him  whose  mind  is  bewitched  by  her  treacherous  beauty ; 
In  mad  zeal  flingeth  he  away  the  fetters  of  duty  and  restraint, 
And  yieldeth  up  the  holocaust  of  self  to  that  fair  idol  of  the  damned. 
No  man  hath  freedom  in  aught  save  in  that  from  which  the  wicked  would 

be  hindered, 
He  is  free  toward  God  and  good ;  but  to  all  else  a  bondman. 

Thou  art  in  a  middle  sphere,  to  render  and  receive  honour, 

If  thy  king  commandeth,  obey ;  and  stand  not  in  the  way  with  rebels ; 

But  if  need  be,  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  sword,  and  fear  not  to  smite  a 
traitor, 

For  the  universe  acquitteth  thee  with  honour,  fighting  in  defence  of  thy 
king. 

If  a  thief  break  thy  dwelling,  and  thou  take  him,  it  were  sin  in  thee  to  let 
him  go; 

Yea,  though  he  pleadeth  to  thy  mercy,  thou  canst  not  spare  him  and  be 
blameless ; 

For  his  guilt  is  not  only  against  thee,  it  is  not  thy  moneys  or  thy  mer- 
chandise, 

But  he  hath  done  damage  to  the  law,  which  duty  constraineth  thee  to 
sanction. 

Feast  not  thine  appetite  of  vengeance,  remembering  thou  also  art  a  man, 

But  weep  for  the  sad  compulsion,  hi  which  the  chain  of  Providence  hath 
bound  thee :  j 

Mercy  is  not  thine  to  give  ;  wilt  thou  steal  another's  privilege  ? 

Or  send  abroad  among  thy  neighbours,  a  felon  whom  impunity  hath  har- 
dened ? 

Remember  the  Roman  father,  strong  in  his  stern  integrity, 

And  let  not  thy  slothful  self-indulgence  make  thee  a  conniver  at  the  crime. 

Also,  if  the  knife  of  the  murderer  be  raised  against  thee  or  thine, 


."*      OF  SUBJECTION.  35 

And  through  good  Providence  and  courage,  thou  slay  him  that  would  have 

slain  thee, 

Thou  losest  not  a  tittle  of  thy  rectitude,  having  executed  sudden  justice ; 
Still  mayst  thou  walk  among  the  blessed,  though  thy  hands  be  red  with 

blood. 
For  thyself,  thou  art  neither  worse  nor  better ;  but  thy  fellows  should 

count  thee  their  creditor : 
Thou  hast  manfully  protected  the  right,  and  the  right  is  stronger  for  thy 

deed. 

Also,  in  the  rescuing  of  innocence,  fear  not  to  smite  the  ravisher ; 
What  though  he  die  at  thy  hand  ?  for  a  good  name  is  better  than  the  life  ; 
And  if  Phineas  had  everlasting  praise  in  the  matter  of  Salu's  son, 
With  how  much  greater  honour  standeth  such  a  rescuer  acquitted  ? 
Uphold  the  laws  of  thy  country,  and  fear  not  to  fight  in  their  defence ; 
But  first  be  convinced  in  thy  mind :  for  herein  the  doubter  sinneth. 
Above  all  things  look  thou  well  around,  if  indeed  stern  duty  forceth  thee 
To  draw  the  sword  of  justice,  and  stain  it  with  the  slaughter  of  thy  fellows. 

She  that  lieth  in  thy  bosom,  the  tender  wife  of  thy  affections, 

Must  obey  thee,  and  be  subject,  that  evil  drop  not  on  thy  dwelling. 

The  child  that  is  used  to  constraint,  feareth  not  more  than  he  loveth ; 

But  give  thy  son  his  way,  he  will  hate  thee  and  scorn  thee  together. 

The  master  of  a  well-ordered  home,  knoweth  to  be  kind  to  his  servants  ; 

Yet  he  exacteth  reverence,  and  each  one  feareth  at  his  post. 

There  is  nothing  on  earth  so  lowly,  but  duty  giveth  it  importance ; 

No  station  so  degrading,  but  it  is  ennobled  by  obedience  : 

Yea,  break  stones  upon  the  highway,  acknowledging  the  Lord  in  thy  lot, 

Happy  shalt  thou  be,  and  honourable,  more  than  many  children  of  the 

mighty. 
Thou  that  despisest  the  outward  forms,  beware  thou  lose  not  the  inward 

spirit ; 

For  they  are  as  words  unto  ideas,  as  symbols  to  things  unseen. 
Keep  then  the  form  that  is  good  :  retain,  and  do  reverence  to  example ; 
And  in  all  things  observe  subordination,  for  that  is  the  whole  duty  of  man. 

A  horse  knoweth  his  rider,  be  he  confident  or  timid, 
And  the  fierce  spirit  of  Bucephalus  stoopeth  unto  none  but  Alexander; 
The  tigress  roused  in  the  jungle  by  the  prying  spaniels  of  the  fowler, 
Will  quail  at  the  eye  of  man,  so  he  assert  his  dignity ; 


S«  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Nay,  the  very  ships,  those  giant  swans  breasting  the  mighty  waters, 

Roll  in  the  trough,  or  break  the  wave,  to  the  pilot's  fear  or  courage : 

How  much  more  shall  man,  discerning  the  Fountain  of  authority, 

Bow  to  superior  commands,  and  make  his  own  obeyed. 

And  yet,  in  travelling  the  world,  hast  thou  not  often  known 

A  gallant  host  led  on  to  ruin  by  a  feeble  Xerxes  ? 

Hast  thou  not  often  seen  the  wanton  luxury  of  indolence 

Su'lying  with  its  sleepy  mist  the  tarnished  crown  of  headship  ? 

Alas  !  for  a  thousand  fathers,  whose  indulgent  sloth 

Hath  emptied  the  vial  of  confusion  over  a  thousand  homes : 

Alas  !  for  the  palaces  and  hovels,  that  might  have  been  nurseries  for  heaven, 

By  hot  intestine  broils  blighted  into  schools  for  hell : 

None  knoweth  his  place,  yet  all  refuse  to  serve, 

None  weareth  the  crown,  yet  all  usurp  the  sceptre  : 

And  perhance  some  fiercer  spirit,  of  natural  nobility  of  mind, 

That  needed  but  the  kindness  of  constraint  to  have  grown  up  great  and  good, 

$ow, — the  rich  harvest  of  his  heart  choked  by  unweeded  tares, — 

All  bold  to  dare  and  do,  unchecked  by  wholesome  fear, 

A  scoffer  about  bigotry  and  priestcraft,  a  rebel  against  government  and  God, 

And  standard-bearer  of  the  turbulent,  leading  on  the  sons  of  Belial : 

Such  an  one  is  king^of  that  small  state,  head  tyrant  of  the  thirty, 

Brandishing  the  torch  of  discord  in  his  village-home  : 

And  the  timid  Eli  of  the  house,  yon  humble  parish-priest, 

Liveth  in  shame  and  sorrow,  fearing  his  own  handy-work ; 

The  mother,  heart-stricken  years  agone,  halh  dropped  into  an  early  grave  , 

The  silent  sisters  long  to  leave  a  home  they  cannot  love  ; 

The  brothers,  casting  off  restraint,  follow  their  wayward  wills  ; 

And  the  chance  guest,  early  departing,  blesseth  his  kind  stars, 

That  on  his  humbler  home  hath  brooded  no  domestic  curse. 

Yet  is  that  curse  the  fruit ;  wouldest  thou  the  root  of  the  evil  ? 

A  kindness — most  unkind,  that  hath  always  spared  the  rod  ; 

A  weak  and  numbing  indecision  in  the  mind  that  should  be  master ; 

A  foolish  love,  pregnant  of  hate,  that  never  frowned  on  sin ; 

A  moral  cowardice  of  heart,  that  never  dared  command. 

A  kingdom  is  a  nest  of  families,  and  a  family  a  small  kingdom  ; 
And  the  government  of  whole  or  part  differeth  in  nothing  but  extent. 
The  house,  where  the  master  ruleth,  is  strong  in  united  subjection. 
And  the  only  commandment  with  promise,  being  honoured,  is  a  blessing  to 
that  house ; 


OF  REST.  J7 

But  and  if  he  yieldeth  up  the  reins,  it  is  weak  in  discordant  anarchy, 

And  the  bonds  of  love  aud  union  melt  away,  as  ropes  of  sand. 

The  realm,  that  is  ruled  with  vigour,  lacketh  neither  peace  nor  glory, 

It  dreadeth  not  foes  from  without,  nor  the  sons  of  not  from  within : 

But  the  meanness  of  temporizing  fear  robbeth  a  kingdom  of  its  honour, 

And  the  weakness  of  indulgent  sloth  ravageth  its  bowels  with  discord. 

The  best  of  human  governments  is  the  patriarchal  rule  ; 

The  authorized  supremacy  of  one,  the  prescriptive  subjection  of  many : 

Therefore,  the  children  of  the  East  have  thriven  from  age  to  age, 

Obeying,  even  as  a  god,  the  royal  father  of  Cathay : 

Therefore,  to  this  our  day,  the  Rechabite  wanteth  not  a  man,  (**) 

But  they  stand  before  .the  Lord,  forsaking  not  the  mandate  of  their  sire. 

Therefore  shall  Magog  among  the  nations  arise  from  his  northern  lair, 

And  rend,  in  the  fury  of  his  power,  the  insurgent  world  beneath  him : 

For  the  thunderbolt  of  concentrated  strength  can  be  hurled  by  the  will  of  one, 

While  the  dissipated  forces  of  many  are  harmless  as  summer  lightning. 


OF    REST.  (") 

IN  the  silent  watches  o/  the  night,  calm  night  that  breedeth  thoughts,  (  ') 

When  the  task-weary  mind  disporteth  in  the  careless  play-hours  of  steep, 

I  dreamed ;  and  behold,  a  valley,  green  and  sunny  and  well  watered, 

And  thousands  moving  across  it,  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands : 

And  though  many  seamed  faint  and  toil-worn,  and  stumbled  often,  and  fell, 

Yet  moved  they  on  unresting,  as  the  ever-flowing  cataract. 

Then  T  noted  adders  in  the  grass,  and  pitfalls  under  the  flowers, 

And  chasms  yawned  among  the  hills,  and  the  ground  was  cracked  and 

slippery : 

But  Hope  and  her  brother  Fear  suffered  not  a  foot  to  linger ; 
Bright  phantoms  of  false  joys  beckoned  alluringly  forward, 
While  yelling  grisly  shapes  of  dread  came  hunting  on  behind  : 
And  ceaselessly,  like  I^apland  swarms,  that  miserable  crowd  sped  along 
To  the  mist-involved  banks  of  a  dark  and  sullen  river. 
There  saw  I,  midway  in  the  water,  standing  a  giant  fisher, 
And  he  held  many  lines  in  his  hand,  and  they  called  him  Iron  Destiny. 
So  I  tracked  those  subtle  chains,  and  each  held  one  among  the  multitude  • 


38  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Then  I  underslood  what  iiindcred.  that  they  rested  not  in  their  path : 
For  the  fisher  had  sport  in  his  tishing,  and  drew  in  his  lines  continually, 
And  the  new-born  babe,  and  the  aged  man,  were  dragged  into  that  dark 

river : 

And  he  pulled  all  those  myriads  along,  and  none  might  rest  by  the  way, 
Till  many,  for  sheer  wearinsss,  were  eager  to  plunge  into  the  drowning 

stream 

I 

So  I  knew  that  valley  was  Life,  and  it  sloped  to  the  waters  of  Death. 

But  far  on  the  thither  side  spread  out  a  calm  and  silent  shore, 
Where  all  was  tranquil  as  a  sleep,  and  the  crowded  strand  was  quiet : 
And  I  saw  there  many  I  had  known,  but  their  eyes  glared  chillingly  upon  me, 
As  set  in  deepest  slumber ;  and  they  pressed  their  fingers  to  their  lips. 
Then  I  knew  that  shore  was  the  dwelling  of  Rest,  where  spirits  held  their 

Sabbath, 
And  it  seemed  they  would  have  told  me  much,  but  they  might  not  break 

that  silence ; 
For  the  law  of  their  being  was  mystery  :  they  glided  on,  hushing  as  they 

went. 

Yet  further,  under  the  sun,  at  the  roots  of  purple  mountains, 
I  noted  a  blaze  of  glory,  as  the  night-fires  on  northern  skies  ; 
And  I  heard  the  hum  of  joy,  as  it  were  a  sea  of  melody  ; 
And  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  were  millions  of  happy  creatures 
Basking  in  the  golden  light ;  and  I  knew  that  land  was  Heaven. 
Then  the  hill  whereon  I  stood  split  asunder,  ami  a  crater  yawned  at  my  feet, 
Black,  and  deep,  and  dreadful,  fenced  round  with  ragged  rocks  : 
Dimly  was  the  darkness  lit  up  by  spires  of  distant  flame  : 
And  I  saw  below  a  moving  mass  of  life,  like  reptiles  bred  in  corruption-, 
Where  all  was  terrible  unrest,  shrieks  and  groans  and  thunder. 

So  I  woke,  and  I  thoiight  upon  my  dream :  for  it  seemed  of  wisdom's 

ministration 

Wliat  man  is  he  that  findeth  rest,  though  he  hunt  for  it  year  after  year  ? 
As  a  child  he  had  not  yet  been  wearied,  and  cared  uot  then  to  court  it ; 
As  a  youth  he  loved  not  to  be  quiet,  for  excitement  spurred  him  into  strife  ; 
As  a  man  he  tracketh  rest  in  vain,  toiling  painfully  to  catch  it, 
But  still  is  he  pulled  from  the  pursuit,  by  the  strong  compulsion  of  his  fate. 
So  he  hopeth  to  have  peace  in  old  age,  as  he  cannot  rest  in  manhood, 
But  troubles  thicken  with  his  years,  till  Death  hath  dogged  him  to  the  grave. 


y          OF  HUMILITY.  39 

There  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  spirit  on  the  shadowy  side  of  life ; 

But  unto  this  world's  pilgrim  no  rest  for  the  sole  of  his  foot. 

Ever,  from  stage  to  stage,  he  travelleth  wearily  forward, 

And  though  he  pluck  flowers  by  the  way,  he  may  not  sleep  among  the 

flowers. 

Mind  is  the  perpetual  motion ;  for  it  is  a  running  stream 
From  an  unfathomable  source,  the  depth  of  the  divine  Intelligence : 
And  though  it  be  stopped  in  its  flowing,  yet  hath  it  a  current  within, 
The  surface  may  sleep  unruffled,  but  underneath  are  whirlpools  of  con- 
tention. 

Seekest  thou  rest,  O  mortal  ? — seek  it  no  more  on  earth. 
For  destiny  will  not  cease  from  dragging  thee  through  the  rough  wilderness 

of  life ; 

Seekest  thou  rest,  O  immortal  ? — hope  not  to  find  it  in  Heaven, 
For  sloth  yieldeth  not  happiness ;  the  bliss  of  a  spirit  is  action. 
Rest  dwelleth  only  on  an  island  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean  of  existence, 
Where  the  world-weary  soul  for  a  while  may  fold  its  tired  wings, 
Until,  after  short  sufficient  slumber,  it  is  quickened  unto  deathless  energy, 
And  speedeth  in  eagle-flight  to  the  Sun  of  unapproachable  perfection. 


OF    HUMILITY. 

VICE  is  grown  aweary  of  her  gawds,  and  donneth  russet  garments, 

Loving  for  change  to  walk  as  a  nun,  beneath  a  modest  veil : 

For  Pride  hath  noted  how  all  admire  the  fairness  of  Humility, 

And  to  clutch  the  praise  he  coveteth,  is  content  to  be  drest  in  hair-cloth ; 

And  wily  Lust  tempteth  the  young  heart,  that  is  proof  against  the  bravery 

of  harlots, 

With  timid  tears  and  retiring  looks  of  an  artless  seeming  maid ; 
And  indolent  Apathy,  sleepily  ashamed  of  his  dull  lack-lustre  face, 
Is  glad  of  the  livery  of  meakness,  that  charitable  cloak  and  cowl ; 
And  Hatred  hideth  his  demon  frown  beneath  a  gentle  mask  ; 
\nd  Slander,  snake-like,  ereepeth  in  the  dust,  thinking  to  escape  recrim- 
ination. 

But  the  world  hath  gained  somewhat  from  its  years,  and  is  quick  to  pens- 
trate  disguises ; 


40  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Neitner  in  all  these  is  it  easily  deceived,  but  rightly  divideth  the  true  from 
•    the  false. 

Yet  there  is  a  meanness  of  spirit  that  is  fair  in  the  eyes  of  most  men, 
Yea,  and  seemeth  fair  unto  itself,  loving  to  be  thought  Humility. 
Its  choler  is  not  roused  by  insolence,  neither  do  injuries  disturb  it : 
Honest  indignation  is  strange  unto  its  breast,  and  just  reproof  unto  its  lip. 
It  shrinketh,  looking  fearfully  on  men,  fawning  at  the  feet  of  the  great  ; 
The  breath  of  calumny  is  sweet  unto  its  ear,  and  it  courteth  the  rod  o 

persecution. 

But  what !  art  thou  not  a  man,  deputed  chief  of  the  creation  ? 
Art  thou  not  a  soldier  of  the  right,  militant  for  God  and  good  ? 
Shall  virtue  and  truth  be  degraded,  because  thou  art  too  base  to  uphold  them  ? 
Or  Goliath  be  bolder  in  blaspheming  for  want  of  a  David  in  the  camp  ? 
I  say  not,  avenge  injuries  ;  for  the  ministry  of  vengeance  is  not  thine ; 
But  wherefore  rebuke  not  a  liar  ?  wherefore  do  dishonour  to  thyself  ? 
Wherefore  let  the  evil  triumph,  when  the  just  and  the  right  are  on  thy  side  ? 
Such  Humility  is  abject,  it  lacketh  the  life  of  sensibility, 
And  that  resignation  is  but  mock,  where  the  burden  is  not  felt : 
Suspect  thyself  and  thy  meekness  :  thou  art  mean  and  indifferent  to  sin ; 
And  the  heart  that  should  grieve  and  forgive,  is  case-hardened  and  forgettetb. 

Humility  mainly  becometh  the  converse  of  man  with  his  Maker, 
But  oftentimes  it  seemeth  out  of  place  in  the  intercourse  of  man  with  man : 
Yet,  it  is  the  cringer  to  his  equal,  that  is  chiefly  seen  bold  to  his  God, 
While  a  martyr,  whom  a  world  cannot  browbeat,  is  humble  as  a  child 

before  Him. 

Render  unto  all  men  their  due,  but  remember  thou  also  art  a  man, 
And  cheat  not  thyself  of  the  reverence  which  is  owing  to  thy  reasonable 

being. 

Be  courteous,  and  listen,  and  learn  :  but  teach  and  answer  if  thou  canst : 
Serve  thee  of  thy  neighbour's  wisdom,  but  be  not  enslaved  as  to  a  master. 
Where  thou  perceivest  knowledge,  bend  the  ear  of  attention  and  respect ; 
But  yield  not  further  to  the  teaching,  than  as  thy  mind  is  warranted  by 

reasons. 

Better  is  an  obstinate  disputant,  that  yieldeth  inch  by  inch, 
Than  the  shallow  traitor  to  himself,  who  surrendereth  to  half  an  argument* 

Motesty  winneth  good  report,  but  scorn  cometh  close  upon  servility ; 


OF   HUMILITY.  41 

Therefore  use  meekness  with  discretion,  casting  not  pearls  before  swine. 
For  a  fool  will  tread  upon  thy  neck,  if  he  seeth  thee  lying  in  the  dust ; 
And  there  be  companies  and  seasons  where  resolute  bearing  is  but  duty. 
[f  a  good  man  discloseth  his  secret  failings  unto  the  view  of  the  profane, 
What  doeth  he  but  harm  unto  his  brother,  confirming  him  in  his  sin : 
There  is  a  concealment  that  is  right,  and  an  open-mouthed  humility  that 

erreth ; 

There  is  a  candour  near  akin  to  folly,  and  a  meekness  looking  like  shame. 
Masculine  sentiments,  vigorously  holden,  well  become  a  man  ; 
But  a  weak  mind  hath  a  timorous  grasp,  and  mistaketh  it  for  tenderness  of 

conscience. 

Many  are  despised  for  their  folly,  who  put  it  to  the  account  of  their  religion, 
And  because  men  treat  them  with  contempt,  they  look  to  their  God  for  glory : 
But  contempt  shall  still  be  their  reward,  who  betrayed  their  Master  unto 

ridicule, 

Reflecting  on  Him  in  themselves,  meanness  and  ignorance  and  cowardice. 
A  Christian  hath  a  royal  spirit,  and  need  not  be  ashamed  but  unto  One  : 
Among  just  men  walketh  he  softly,  but  the  world  should  see  nun  as  a 

champion. 
His  humbleness  is  far  unlike  the  shame  that  covereth  the  profligate  and 

weak, 

When  the  sober  reproof  of  virtue  hath  touched  their  tingling  ears ; 
It  is  born  of  love  and  wisdom,  and  is  worthy  of  all  honour, 
And  the  sweet  persuasion  of  its  smile  changeth  contempt  into  reverence. 

A  man  of  a  haughty  spirit  is  daily  adding  to  his  enemies  : 

He  standeth  as  the  Arab  in  the  desert,  and  the  hands  of  all  men  are  against 

him : 

A  man  of  a  base  mind  daily  subtracteth  from  his  friends, 
For  he  holdeth  himself  so  cheaply,  that  others  learn  to  despise  him. 
But  where  the  meekness  of  self-knowledge  veileth  the  front  of  self-respectt 
There  look  thou  for  the  man,  whom  none  can  know  but  they  will  honour. 
Humility  is  the  softening  shadow  before  the  stature  of  Excellence, 
And  lieth  lowly  on  the  ground,  beloved  and  lovely  as  the  violet : 
Humility  is  the  fair-haired  maid,  that  calletn  Worth  her  brother, 
The  gentle  silent  nurse,  that  fostereth  infant  virtues : 
Humility  bringeth  no  excuse  ;  she  is  welcome  to  God  and  man  : 
Her  countenance  is  needful  unto  all,  who  would  prosper  in  either  world ; 
And  the  mild  light  of  her  sweet  face  is  mirrored  in  the  eyes  of  her  c«m- 

panions, 


ft  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  straightway  stand  they  accepted,  children  of  penitence  and  love. 
As  when  the  blind  man  is  nigh  unto  a  rose,  its  sweetnes  is  the  herald  of 

its  beauty, 

So  when  thou  savourest  humility,  be  sure  thou  art  nigh  unto  merit. 
A  gift  rejoiceth  the  covetous,  and  praise  fatteneth  the  vain, 
And  the  pride  of  man  delighteth  in  the  huntble  bearing  of  his  fellow , 
But  to  the  tender  benevolence  of  the  unthanked  Almoner  of  good, 
Humility  is  queen  among  the  graces,  for  she  giveth  Him  occasion  t*> 

bestow.       • 


OF    PRIDE. 

DEEP  is  the  sea,  and  deep  is  hell,  but  Pride  mineth  deeper ; 

It  is  coiled,  as  a  poisonous  wonn  about  the  foundation^  of  the  soul. 

If  thou  expose  it  in  thy  motives,  and  track  it  in  thy  springs  of  thought, 

Complacent  in  its  own  detection,  it  will  seem  indignant  virtue  ; 

Smoothly  will  it  gratulate  thy  skill,  O  subtle  anatomist  of  self, 

And  spurn  at  its  very  being,  while  it  nestleth  the  deeper  in  thy  bosom . 

Pride  is  a  double  traitor,  and  betray eth  itself  to  entrap  thee, 

Making  thee  vain  of  thy  self-knowledge  ;  proud  of  thy  discoveries  of  pride. 

Fruitlessly  thou  strainest  for  humility,  by  darkly  diving  into  self; 

Rather  look  away  from  innate  evil,  and  gaze  upon  extraneous  good : 

For  hi  sounding  the  deep  things  of  the  heart,  thou  shall  learn  to  be  vain 

of  its  capacities, 

But  in  viewing  the  heights  above  thee,  thou  shalt  be  taught  thy  littleness ; 
Could  an  emmet  pry  into  itself,  it  might  marvel  at  its  own  anatomy, 
But  let  it  look  on  eagles,  to  discern  how  mean  a  thing  it  is. 
And  all  things  hang  upon  comparison  ;  to  the  greater,  great  is  small : 
Neither  is  there  any  thing  so  vile,  but  somewhat  yet  is  viler  : 
On  all  sides  is  there  an  infinity :  the  culprit  at  the  gallows  hath  his  worse, 
And  the  virgin  martyr  at  the  stake  need  not  look  far  for  a  better. 
Therefore  see  thou  that  thine  aim  reacheth  unto  higher  than  thyself: 
Beware  that  the  standard  of  thy  soul  wave  from  the  loftiest  battlement : 
For  pride  is  a  pestilent  meteor,  flitting  on  the  marshes  of  corruption, 
That  will  lure  thee  forward  to  thy  death,  if  thou  seek  to  track  it  to  ita 

source :  • 


OF  EXPERIENCE.  4S 

Pride  is  a  gloomy  bow,  arching  the  infernal  firmament, 

That  will  lead  thee^on,  if  thou  wilt  hunt  it,  even  to  the  dwelling  of  despair. 

Deep  calleth  unto  deep,  and  mountain  overtoppeth  mountain, 

And  still  shall  thou  fathom  to  no  end  tGe  depth  and  the  height  of  pride ; 

For  it  is  the  vast  ambition  of  the  soul,  warped  to  an  idle  object, 

And  nothing  but  a  Deity  in  Self  can  quench  its  insatiable  thirst. 

Be  aware  of  the  smiling  enemy,  that  openly  sheatheth  his  weapon, 
But  mingleth  poison  in  secret  with  the  sacred  salt  of  hospitality : 
For  pride  will  lie  dormant  in  thy  heart,  to  snatch  its  secret  opportunity, 
Watching,  as  a  lion-ant,  in  the  bottom  of  its  toils. 

Stay  not  to  parley  with  thy  foe,  for  his  tongue  is  more  potent  than  his  arm, 
But  be  wiser,  fighting  against  pride  in  the  simple  panoply  of  prayer. 
As  one  also  of  the  poets  hath  said,  let  not  the  Proteus  escape  thee ;  ('*) 
For  he  will  blaze  forth  as  fire,  and  quench  himself  in  likeness  of  water ; 
He  will  fright  thee  as  a  roaring  beast,  or  charm  thee  as  a  subtle  reptile. 
Mark,  amid  all  his  transformations,  the  complicate  deceitfulness  o^  pride, 
And  the  more  he  striveth  to  elude  thee,  bind  him  the  closer  in  thy  toils. 
Prayer  is  the  net  that  snareth  him ;  prayer  is  the  fetter  that  holdeth  him  : 
Thou  canst  not  nourish  pride,  while  waiting  as  an  almsman  on  thy  God,— 
Waiting  in  sincerity  and  trust,  or  pride  shall  meet  thee  even  there : 
Yea,  from  the  palaces  -of  Heaven,  hath  pride  cast  down  his  millions. 
Root  up  the  mandrake  from  thy  heart,  though  it  cost  thee  blood  and  groans, 
Or  the  cherished  garden  of  thy  graces  will  fade  and  perish  utterly. 


OF    EXPERIENCE. 

I  KNEW  that  age  was  enriched  with  the  hard-earned  wages  of  knowledge, 
And  I  saw  that  hoary  wisdom  was  bred  in  the  school  of  disappointment : 
I  noted  that  the  wisest  of  youth,  though  provident  and  cautious  of  evil, 
Yet  sailed  along  unsteadily,  as  lacking  some  ballast  of  the  mind : 
And  the  cause  seemed  to  lie  in  this,  that  while  they  considered  around 

them, 
And  warded  off  all  dangers  from  without,  they  forgat  their  own  weakness 

within. 
So  steer  they  in  self-confidence,  until,  from  the  multitude  of  perils, 


44  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

They  begin  to  be  wary  of  themselves,  and  learn  the  first  lesson  of 

Experience. 

I  knew  that  in  the  morning  of  life,  before  its  wearisome  journey, 
The  youthful  soul  doth  expand,  in  the  simple  luxury  of  being ; 
It  hath  not  contracted  its  wishes,  nor  set  a  limit  to  its  hopes ; 
The  wing  of  fancy  is  unclipt,  and  sin  hath  not  seared  its  feelings  : 
Each  feature  is  stomped  with  immortality,  for  all  its  desires  are  infinite, 
And  it  seeketh  an  ocean  of  happiness,  to  fill  the  deep  hollow  within. 
But  the  old  and  the  grave  look  on,  pitying  that  generous  youth, 
For  they  also  have  tasted  long  ago  the  bitterness  of  hope  destroyed  : 
They  pity  him,  and  are  sad,  remembering  the  days  that  are  past; 
But  they  know  he  must  taste  for  himself,  or  he  will  not  give  ear  to  their 

wisdom. 

For  Experience  hath  another  lesson,  which  a  man  will  do  well  if  he  learn, 
By  checking  the  flight  ot  expectation,  to  cheat  disappointment  of  its  pain. 

Experience  teacheth  many  things,  and  all  men  are  his  scholars  : 

Yet  is  he  a  strange  tutor,  unteaching  that  which  he  hath  taught. 

Youth  is  confident,  manhood  wary,  and  old  age  confident  again  : 

Youth  is  kind,  manhood  cold,  and  age  returneth  unto  kindness. 

For  youth  suspecteth  nought,  till  manhood,  bitterly  learned, 

Mistrusteth  all,  overleaping  the  mark ;  and  age  correcteth  his  excess. 

Suspicion  is  the  scaffold  unto  faith,  a  temporary  needful  eyesore, 

By  which  the  strong  man's  dwelling  is  slowly  builded  up  behind ; 

But  soon  as  the  top-stone  hath  been  set  to  the  well-proved  goodly  pyramid, 

The  scaffold  is  torn  down,  and  well-timed  trust  taketh  its  long  leave  of 

suspicion. 
A  thousand  volumes  in  a  thousand  tongues,  enshrine  the  lessons  of 

Experience, 

Yet  a  man  shall  read  them  all,  and  go  forth  none  the  wiser : 
For  -self-love  lendeth  him  a  glass,  to  colour  all  he  conneth, 
Lest  in  the  features  of  another  he  find  his  own  complexion. 
And  we  secretly  judge  of  ourselves,  as  differing  greatly  from  all  men, 
And  love  to  challenge  causes,  to  show  how  we  can  master  their  effects : 
Pride  is  pampered  in  expecting  that  we  need  not  fear  a  common  fate, 
Or  wrong-headed  prejudice  exulteth,  in  combating  old  experience  ; 
Or  perchance  caprice  and  discontent  are  the  spurs  that  goad  us  into  danger 
Careless,  and  half  in  hope  to  find  there  an  enemy  to  joust  with. 
Private  experience  is  an  unsafe  teacher,  for  we  rarely  learn  both  sides, 


OF  ESTIMATING  CHARACTER.  45 

And  from  the  gilt  surface  reckon  not  on  steel  beneath : 
The  torrid  sons  of  Guinea  think  scorn  of  icy  seas,  . 
And  the  frostbitten  Greenlander  disbelieveth  suns  too  hot. 
But  thou,  student  of  Wisdom,  feed  on  the  marrow  of  the  matter ; 
If  thou  wilt  suspect,  let  it  be  thyself ;  if  thou  wilt  expect,  l°.t  it  not  be 
gladness. 


OF  ESTIMATING  CHARACTER. 

RASHLY,  nor  ofttimes  truly,  doth  man  pass  judgment  on  his  brother ; 
For  he  seeth  not  the  springs  of  the  heart,  nor  heareth  the  reasons  of  the 

mind. 
And  the  world  is  not  wiser  than  of  old,  when  justice  was  meted  by  the 

sword, 

When  the  spear  avenged  the  wrong,  and  the  lot  decided  the  right ; 
When   the  footsteps   of  blindfold   innocence  were   tracked   by  burning 

ploughshares, 

And  the  still  condemning  water  delivered  up  the  wizard  to  the  stake : 
For  we  wait,  like  the  sage  of  Salamis,  to  see  what  the  end  will  be,  ('*) 
Fixing  the  right  or  the  wrong,  by  the  issues  of  failure  or  success. 
Judge  not  of  things  by  their  events ;  neither  of  character  by  providence ; 
And  count  not  a  man  more  evil  because  he  is  more  unfortunate ; 
For  the  blessings  of  a  better  covenant  lie  not  hi  the  sunshine  of  prosperity; 

But  pain  and  chastisement  the  rather  show  the  wise  Father's  love. 

. 

Behold  that  daughter  of  the  world ;  she  is  full  of  gaiety  and  gladness ; 
The  diadem  of  rank  is  on  her  brow,  uncounted  wealth  is  in  her  coffers : 
She  tricketh  out  her  beauty-like  Jezebel,  and  is  welcome  in  the  courts  of 

kings; 

She  is  queen  of  the  fools  of  fashion,  and  ruleth  the  revels  of  luxury : 
And  though  she  sitteth  not  as  Tamar,  nor  standeth  in  the  ways  as  Raliab, 
Yet  in  the  secret  of  her  chamber,  she  shrinketh  not  from  dalliance  and 

guilt.     • 

She  careth  not  if  there  be  a  God,  or  a  soul,  or  a  time  of  retribution ; 
Pleasure  is  the  idol  of  her  heart :  she  thirsteth  for  no  purer  heaven. 
And  she  laugheth  with  light  good  humour,  and  all  men  praise  her  gentle- 
ness ; 


4G  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY 

They  are  glad  in  her  lovely  smile,  and  the  river  of  her  bounty  filleth  them. 
So  she  prospered  in  the  world :  the  worship  and  desire  of  thousands  , 
And  she  died  even  as  she  had  lived,  careless  and  courteous  and  liberal. 
The  grave  swallowed  up  her  pomp,  the  marble  proclaimed  her  virtues, 
For  men  esteemed  her  excellent,  and  charities  sounded  forth  her  praise  : 
But  elsewhere  far  other  judgment  setteth  her — with  infidels  and   hariots  ! 
She  abused  the  trust  of  her  splendour :  and  the  wages  of  her  sin  shall  be 
hereafter. 

Look  again  on  this  fair  girl,  the  orphan  of  a  village  pastor 

Who  is  dead,.and  hath  left  her  his  all, — his  blessing,  and  a  name  unstained ; 

And  friends,  with  busy  zeal,  that  their  purses  be  not  taxed, 

Place  the  sad  mourner  in  a  home?  poor  substitute  for  that  she  hath  lost. 

A  stranger  among  strange  faces,  she  drinketh  the  wormwood  of  dependence ', 

She  is  marked  as  a  child  of  want ;  and  the  world  hateth  poverty. 

Prayer  is  not  heard  in  that  house ;  the  day  she  hath  loved  to  hallow 

Is  noted  but  by  deeper  dissipation,  the  riot  of  luxury  and  gaming : 

And  wantonness  is  in  her  master's  eye,  and  she  hath  nowhere  to  flee  to ; 

She  is  cared  for  by  none  upon-  earth,  and  her  God  seemeth  to  forsake  her. 

Then  cometh,  in  fair  show,  the  promise,  and  the  feint  of  affection, 

And  her  heart,  long  unused  to  kindness,  remembereth  her  father,  and 

loveth. 
And  the  villain  hath  wronged  her  trust,  and  mocked,  and  flung  her  from 

him, 

And  men  point  at  her  and  laugh  :  and  women  hate  her  as  an  outcast : 
But  elsewhere,  far  other  judgment  seateth  her — among  the  martyrs  ! 
And  the  Lord,  who  seemed  to  forsake,  giveth  double  glory  to  the  fallen. 

Once  more,  in  the  matter  of  wealth :  if  thou  throw  thine  all  on  a  chance, 
Men  will  come  around  thee,  and  wait,  and  watch  the  turning  of  the  wheel ; 
And  if,  in  the  lottery  of  life,  thou  hast  drawn  a  splendid  prize, 
What  foresight  hadst  thou,  and  skill !  yea,  what  enterprise  and  wisdom  ! 
But  if  it  fall  out  against  thee,  and  thou  fail  in  thy  perilous  endeavour,       ' 
Behold,  the  simple  did  sow,  and  hath  reaped  the  right  harvest  of  his  folly :  ' 
And  the  world  will  be  glaldly  accused,  nor  will  reach  out  a  finger  to  help  ; 
For  why  should  this  speculative  dullard  be  a  whirlpool  to  all  around  him  ? 
Go  lo,  let  him  sink  by  himself:  we  knew  what -the  end  of  it  would  be  :— 
For  the  man  hath  missed  his  mark,  and  his  fellows  look  no  further. 


OF  ESTIMATING  CHARACTER.  47 

Also,  touching  guilt  and  innocence :  a  man  shall  walk  in  his  uprightness, 
Year  after  year  without  reproach,  in  charity  and  honesty  with  all : 
Bufdn  one  evil  hour  the  enemy  shall  come  in  like  a  flood  ; 
Shall  track  him  and  tempt  him,  and  hem  him, — till  he  knoweth  not  whither 

to  fly. 

Perchance  his  famishing  little  ones  shall  scream  in  his  ears  for  bread, 
And,  maddened  by  that  fierce  cry,  he  rusneth  as  a  thief  upon  the  world : 
The  world  that  hath  left  him  to  starve,  itself  wallowing  in  plenty, — 
The  world,  that  denieth  him  his  rights, — he  daringly  robbeth  it  of  them. 
I  say  not,  such  an  one  is  innocent :  but,  small  is  the  measure  of  his  guilt 
To  that  of  his  wealthly  neighbour,  who  would  not  help  him  at  his  need  ; 
To  that  of  the  selfish  epicure,  who  turned  away  with  coldness  from  hia 

tale; 
To  that  of  unsuffering  thousands,  who  look  with  complacence  on  his  fall. 

Or  perchance  the  continual  dropping  of  the  venomed  words  of  spite, 

Insult  and  injury  and  scorn,  have  galled  and  pierced  his  heart ; 

Yet,  with  all  long-suffering  and  meekness,  he  forgiveth  unto  seventy  times 

seven : 

Till,  in  some  weaker  moment,  tempted  beyond  endurance, 
He  striketh,  more  in  anger  than  in  hate  ;  and,  alas  !  for  his  heavy  chance, 
He  hath  smitten  unto  instant  death  his  spiteful,  life-long  enemy  ! 
And  none  was  by  to  see  it ;  and  all  men  knew  of  their  contentions  : 
Fierce  voices  shout  for  his  blood,  and  rude  hands  hurry  him  to  judgment. 
Then  man's  verdict  cometh, — Murderer,  with  forethought  malice  ; 
And  his  name  is  a  note  of  execration  ;  his  guilt  is  too  black  for  devils. 
But  to  the  righteous  Judge,  seemeth  he  the  suffering  victim  : 
For   his  anger  was  not  unlawful,  but  became  him  as  a  Christian  and  9 

man ; 

And  though  his  guilt  was  grievous  when  he  struck  that  heavy  bitter  blow, 
Yet  light  is  the  sin  of  the  smiter,  and  verily  kicketh  the  beam, 
To  the  weight  of  that  man's  wickedness,  whose  slow  relentless  hatred 
Met  him  at  every  turn,  with  patient  continuance  in  evil. 
Doubtless,  eternal  wrath  shall  be  heaped  upon  that  spiteful  enemy. 

It  is  in  vain,  it  is  in  vain,  saith  the  preacher  ;  there  be  none  but  the  right 

eous  and  the  wicked, 

Base  rebels,  and  stanch  allies,  the  true  knight,  and  the  traitor  ; 
And  he  beareth  strong  witness  among  men,  Ther</is  no  neutral  ground, 


48  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  broad  highway  and  narrow  path  map  out  the  whole  domain ; 
Sit  here  among  the  saints,  these  holy  chosen  few, 
Or  grovel  there  a  wretch  condemned,  to  die  among  the  million. 
And  verily  for  ultimate  results,  there  be  but  good  and  bad  ; 
Heaven  hath  no  dusky  twilight ;  hell  is  not  gladdened  with  a  dawn. 
Yet  looking  round  among  his  fellows,  who  can  pass  righteous  judgment, 
Such  an  one  is  holy  and  accepted,  and  such  an  one  reprobate  and  doomed? 
There  is  so  much  of  good  among  the  worst,  so  much  of  evil  in  the  best 
Such  seeming  partialities  in  providence,  so  many  things  to  lessen  and  expand 
Yea,  and  with  all  man's  boast,  so  little  real  freedom  of  his  will, — 
That,  to  look  a  little  lower  than  the  surface,  garb  or  dialect  or  fashion, 
Thou  shall  feebly  pronounce  for  a  saint,  and  faintly  condemn  for  a  sinner. 
Over  many  a  heart  good  and  true,  fluttereth  the  Great  King's  pennant : 
By  many  an  iron  hand,  the  pirate's  black  banner  is  unfurled : 
But  there  be  many  more  besides,  in  the  yacht  and  the  trader  and  the  fish- 
ing boat, 

In  the  feather'd  war-canoe,  and  the  quick  mysterious  gondola : 
And  the  army  of  that  Great  King  hath  no  stated  uniform  ; 
Ot  mingled  characters  and  kinds  goeth  forth  the  countless  host ; 
There  is  the  turbaned  Damascene,  with  his  tattooed  Zealand  brother, 
There  the  slim  bather  in  the  Ganges,  with  the  sturdy  Russian  boor, 
The  sluggish  inmate  of  a  polar  cave,  with  the  fire-souled  daughter  of  Brazfl, 
The  embruted  slave  from  Cuba,  and  the  Briton  of  gentle  birth. 
For  all  are  His  inheritance,  of  all  He  taketh  tithe : 
And  the  Church,  his  mercy's  ark,  hath  some  of  every  sort. 
Who  art  thou,  O  man,  that  art  fixing  the  limits  of  the  fold  ? 
Wherefore  settest  thou  stakes  to  spread  the  tent  of  heaven  ? 
Lay  not  the  plummet  to  the  line  :  religion  hath  no  landmarks  : 
No  human  keenness  can  discern  the  subtle  shades  of  faith  : 
In  some  it  is  as  earliest  dawn,  the  scarce  diluted  darkness  ; 
In  some  as  dubious  twilight,  cold  and  gray  and  gloomy ; 
fn  srme  the  ebon  east  is  streaked  with  flaming  gold  : 
In  some  the  dayspring  from  on  high  breaketh  in  all  its  praise. 
And  who  hath  determined  the  when,  separating  light  from  darkness  ? 
Who  shall  pluck  from  earliest  dawn  the  promise  of  the  day  ? 
Ijeave  that  care  to  the  Husbandman,  lest  thou  garner  tares  ; 
Help  thou  the  Shepherd  in  his  seeking,  but  to  separate  be  his  : 
For  I  have  often  seen  the  noble  erring  spirit 
Wrecked  on  the  shoals  of  passion,  and  numbered  of  the  lost ; 


OF  ESTIMATING  CHARACTER.  49 

Often  the  generous  heart,  lit  by  unhallowed  fire, 

Counted  a  brand  among  the  burning,  and  left  uncared-for,  in  his  sin: 

Yet  I  waited  a  little  year,  and  the  mercy  thou  hadst  forgotten 

Hath  purged  that  noble  spirit,  washing  it  in  waters  of  repentance  ; 

That  glowing  generous  heart,  having  burnt  out  all  its  dross, 

Is  as  a  golden  censer,  ready  for  the  aloes  and  cassia : 

While  thou,  hard-visaged  man,  unlovely  in  thy  strictness, 

Who  turned  from  him  thy  sympathies  with  self-complacent  pride, 

How  art  thou  shamed  by  him  !  his  heart  is  a  spring  of  love, 

While  the  dry  well  of  thine  affections  is  choked  with  secret  mammon. 

Sometimes  at  a  glance  thou  judgest  well :  years  could  add  little  to  thy 

knowledge : 

When  charity  gloweth  on  the  cheek,  or  malice  is  lowering  in  the  eye, 
When  honesty's  open  brow,  or  the  weasel-face  of  cunning  is  before  thee, 
Or  the  loose  lip  of  wantonness,  or  clear  bright  forehead  Of  reflection. 
But  often,  by  shrewd  scrutiny?  thou  judgest  to  the  good  man's  harm: 
For  it  may  be  his  hour  of  trial,  or  he  slumbereth  at  his  pg,st, 
Or  he  hath  slain  his  foe,  but  not  yet  levelled  the  stronghold, 
Or  barely  recovered  of  the  wounds,  that  fleshed  him  in  his  fray  with  passion. 
Also,  of  the  worst,  through  prejudice,  thou  loosely  shalt  think  well : 
For  none  is  altogether  evil,  and  thou  mayst  catch  him  at  his  prayers. 
There  may  be  one  small  prize,  though  all  beside  be  blanks ; 
A  silver  thread  of  goodness  in  the  black  sergecloth  of  crime. 

There  is  to  whom  all  things  are  easy  :  his  mind,  as  a  master-key, 
Can  open,  with  intuitive  address,  the  treasuries  of  art  and  science :     ' 
There  is  to  whom  all  things  are  hard  ;  but  industry  giveth  him  a  crow-bar, 
To  force,  with  groaning  labour,  the  stubborn  lock  of  learning : 
And  often  when  thou  lookest  on  an  eye,  dim  in  native  dulness, 
Little  shalt  thou  wot  of  the  wealth  diligence  hath  gathered  to  its  gaze ; 
Often  the  brow  that  should  be  bright  with  the  dormant  fire  of  genius, 
Within  its  ample  halls,  hath  ignorance  the  tenant. 
\  et  are  not  the  sons  of  men  cast  as  in  moulds  by  the  lot  ? 
The  like  in  frame  and  feature  hath  much  alike  in  spirit ; 
Such  a  shape  hath  such  a  soul,  so  that  a  deep  discerner 
From  his  make  will  read  the  man,  and  err  not  far  in  judgment : 
Yea,  and  it  holdeth  in  the  converse,  that  growing  similarity  of  mind 
Findeth  or  maketh  for  itself  an  apposite  dwelling  in  the  body : 

3 


60  PROVERBIAL,  PHILOSOPHY. 

Accident  may  modify,  circumstance  may  bevil,  externals  seem  to  change  it, 

But  still  the  primitive  crystal  is  latent  in  its  many  variations : 

For  the  map  of  the  face,  and  the  picture  of  the  eye,  are  traced  by  the  pen 

of  passion ; 

And  the  mind  fashioneth  a  tabernacle  suitable  for  itself. 
A  mean  spirit  boweth  down  the  back,  and  the  bowing  fostereth  meanness ; 
A  resolute  purpose  knitteth  the  knees,  and  the  firm   tread  nourisheth 

decision ; 

Jxjve  looketh  softly  from  the  eye,  and  kindleth  love  by  looking ; 
Hate  furroweth  the  brow,  and  a  man  may  frown  till  he  hateth : 
For  mind  and  body,  spirit  and  matter,  have  reciprocities  of  power, 
And  each  keepeth  up  the  strife  ;  a  man's  works  make  or  mar  him. 

There  be  deeper  things  than  these,  lying  in  the  twilight  of  truth ; 
But  few  can  discern  them  aright,  from  surrounding  dimness  of  error. 
For  perchance,  ff  thou  knewest  the  whole,  and  largely  with  comprehensive 

mind 

Couldst  read  the  history  of  character,  the  chequered  story  of  a  life, 
And  into  the  great  account,  which  summeth  a  mortal's  destiny, 
Wert  to  add  the  forces  from  without,  dragging  him  this  way  and  that, 
And  the  secret  qualities  within,  grafted  on  the  soul  from  the  womb, 
And  the  might  of  other  men's  example,  among  whom  his  lot  is  cast, 
And  the  influence  of  want,  or  wealth,  of  kindness,  or  harsh  ill-usage, 
Of  ignorance  he  cannot  help,  and  knowledge  found  for  him  by  others, 
And  first  impressions,  hard  to  be  effaced,  and  leadings  to  right  or  to  wrongj 
And  inheritance  of  likeness  from  a  father,  and  natural  human  frailty, 
And  the  habit  of  health  or  disease,  and  prejudices  poured  into  liis  mind, 
And  the  myriad  little  matters  none  but  Omniscience  can  know, 
And  accidents  that  steer  the  thoughts,  where  none  but  Ubiquity  can  trace 

them ; — 

If  thou  couldst  compass  all  these,  and  the  consequents  flowing  from  them, 
And  the  scope  to  which  they  tend,  and  the  necessary  fitness  of  all  things, 
Then  shouldst  thou  see  as  He  seeth,  who  judgeth  all  men  equal, — 
Equal,  touching  innocence  and  guilt ;  and  different  alone  in  this, 
That  one  acknowledged  his  evil,  and  looketh  to  his  God  for  mercy ; 
Another  boasteth  of  his  good,  and  calleth  on  his  God  for  justice  ; 
So  He,  that  sendeth  none  away,  is  largely  munificent  to  prayer, 
But,  in  the  heait  of  presumption,  sheatheth  the  sword  of  vengeance. 


OF  HATRED  AND  ANGER.  51 


OF   HATRED    AND   ANGER. 

BLUNTED  unto  goodness  is  the  heart  which  anger  never  stirretli,  i 

But  that  which  hatred  swelleth,  is  keen  to  carve  out  evil. 

Anger  is  a  noble  infirmity,  the  generous  failing  of  the  just, 

The  one  degree  that  riseth  above  zeal,  asserting  the  prerogatives  of  virtue  : 

But  hatred  is  a  slow  continuing  crime,  a  fire  in  the  bad  man's  breast, 

A  dull  and  hungry  flame,  for  ever  craving  insatiate. 

Hatred  would  harm  another;  anger  would  indulge  itself: 

Hatred  is  a  simmering  poison  ;  anger,  the  opening  of  a  valve  : 

Hatred  destroyeth  as  the  upas-tree  ;  anger  smiteth  as  a  staff: 

Hatred  is  the  atmosphere  of  hell  ;  but  anger  is  known  in  heaven. 

Is  there  not  a  righteous  wrath,  an  anger  just  and  holy, 

When  goodness  is  sitting  in  the  dust,  and  wickedness  enthroned  on  Babel  ? 

Doth  pity  condemn  guilt  ?  —  is  justice  not  a  feeling  but  a  law 

Appealing  to  the  line  and  to  the  plummet,  incognizant  of  moral  sense  ? 

Thou  that  condemnest  anger,  small  is  thy  sympathy  with  angels  ; 

Thou  that  hast  accounted  it  for  sin,  cold  is  thy  communion  with  heaven, 

Beware  of  the  angry  in  his  passion  ;  but  fear  not  to  approach  him  afteP» 

ward; 

For  if  thou  acknowledge  thine  error,  he  himself  will  be  sorry  for  his  wratk 
Beware  of  the  hater  in  his  coolness  ;  for  he  meditateth  evil  against  thee  ; 
Commending  the  resources  of  his  mind  calmly  to  work  thy  ruin. 
Deceit  and  treachery  skulk  with  hatred,  but  an  honest  spirit  flieth 


The  one  lieth  secret,  as  a  serpent  ;  the  other  chaseth,  as  a  leopard. 

Speedily  be  reconciled  in  love,  and  receive  the  returning  offender, 

For  wittingly  prolonging  anger,  thou  tamperest  unconsciously  with  hatre**- 

Patience  is  power  in  a  man,  nerving  him  to  rein  his  spirit  : 

Passion  is  as  palsy  to  his  arm,  while  it  yelleth  on  the  coursers  to  the* 

speed: 

Patience  keepeth  counsel,  and  standeth  in  solid  self-possession, 
But  the  weakness  of  sudden  passion  layeth  bare  the  secrets  of  the  soul. 
The  sentiment  of  anger  is  not  ill,  when  thou  lookest  on  the  impudence  of 


52  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Or  savourest  the  breath  of  calumny,  or  hast  earned  the  hard  wages  of  in- 
justice, 

But  see  thpu  that  thou  curb  it  in  expression,  rendering  the  mildness  of 
rebuke, 

So  shalt  thou  stand  without  reproach,  mailed  in  all  the  dignity  of  virtue. 


OF    GOOD    IN    THINGS   EVIL. 

I  HEARD  the  man  of  sin  reproaching  the  goodness  of  Jehovah, 
Wherefore,  if  he  be  Almighty  Love,  permitteth  he  misery  and  pain  ? 
I  saw  the  child  of  hope  vexed  in  the  labyrinth  of  doubt, 
Wherefore,  O  holy  One  and  just,  is  the  horn  of  thy  foul  foe  so  high 

exalted  ? — 

And,  alas  !  for  this  our  groaning  world,  for  that  grief  and  guilt  are  here ; 
Alas  !  for  that  Earth  is  the  battle-field,  where  good  must  combat  with  evil : 
Angels  look  on  and  hold  their  breath,  burning  to  mingle  in  the  conflict, 
But  the  troops  of  the  Captain  of  Salvation  may  be  none  but  the  soldiers  of 

the  cross : 

And  that  slender  band  must  fight  alone,  and  yet  shall  triumph  gloriously, 
Enough  shall  they  be  for  conquest,  and  the  motto  of  their  standard  is 

ENOUGH. 

Thou  art  sad,  O  denizen  of  earth,  for  pains  and  diseases  and  death, 
But  remember,  thy  hand  hath  earned  them ;  grudge  not  at  the  wages  of  thy 

doings : 

Thy  guilt,  and  thy  fathers'  guift,  must  bring  many  sorrows  in  their  company, 
And  if  thou  wilt  drink  sweet  poison,  doubtless  it  shall  rot  thee  to  the  core. 
Who  art  thou  but  the  heritor  of  evil,  with  a  right  to  nothing  good  ? 
The  respite  of  an  interval  of  ease  were  a  boon  which  Justice  might  deny 

thee : 

Therefore  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  mouth,  O  man  much  to  be  forgiven, 
And  wait,  thou  child  of  hope,  for  time  shall  teach  thee  all  things. 
Yet  hear,  for  my  speech  shall  comfort  thee  ;  reverently,  but  with  boldness, 
I  would  raise  the  sable  curtain,  that  hideth  the  symmetry  of  Providence. 
Pain  and  sin  are  convicts,  and  toil  in  their  fetters   for  good ; 
The  weapons  of  evil  are  turned  against  itself,  fighting  under  better 

banners : 


OF  GOOD  IN  THINGS  EVIL.  53 

The  leech  delighteth  in  stinging,  and  the  wicked  loveth  to  do  harm, 
But  the  wise  Physician  of  the  universe  useth  that  ill  tendency  for  health. 
Verily  from  others'  griefs  are  gendered  sympathy  and  kindness ; 
Patience,  humility,  and  faith,  spring  not  seldom  from  thine  own : 
An  enemy,  humbled  by  his  sorrows,  cannot  be  far  from  thy  forgiveness, 
A  friend  who  hath  tasted  of  calamity,  shall  fan  the  dying  incense  of  thy 

love: 

And  for  thyself,  is  it  a  small  thing,  so  to  learn  thy  frailty, 
That  from  an  aching  "bone  thou  savest  the  whole  body  ? 
Die  furnace  of  affliction  may  be  fierce,  but  if  it  refineth  thy  soul, 
The  good  of  one  meek  thought  shall  outweigh  years  of  torment. 
Nevertheless,  wretched  man,  if  thy  bad  heart  be  hardened  in  the  flame, 
Being  earth-born,  as  of  clay,  and  not  of  moulded  wax, 
Judge  not  the  hand  that  smiteth,  as  if  thou  wert  visited  in  wrath ; 
Reproach  thyself,  for  He  is  Justice :  repent  thee,  for  He  is  Mercy. 

Cease,  fond  caviller  at  wisdom,  to  be  satisfied  that  every  thing  is  wrong : 

Be  sure  there  is  good  necessity,  even  for  the  flourishing  of  evil. 

Would  the  eye  delight  in  perpetual  noon  ?  or  the  ear  in  unqualified  har- 
monies ? 

Hath  winter's  frost  no  welcome,  contrasting  sturdily  with  summer  ? 

Couldst  thou  discern  benevolence,  if  there  were  no  sorrows  to  be  soothed  ? 

Or  discover  the  resources  of  contrivance,  if  nothing  stood  opposed  to  the 
means  ? 

What  were  power  without  an  enemy  ?  or  mercy  without  an  object  ? 

Or  truth,  where  the  false  were  impossible  ?  or  love,  where  love  were  a 
debt  ? 

The  characters  of  God  were  but  idle,  if  all  things  around  him  were  per- 
fection, 

And  virtues  might  slumber  on  like  death,  if  they  lacked  the  opportunities 
of  evil. 

There  is  one  all-perfect,  and  but  one  ;  man  dare  not  reason  of  His  Essence. 

But  there  must  be  deficiencies  in  heaven,  to  leave  room  for  progression  in 
bliss : 

A  realm  of  unqualified  BEST  were  a  stagnant  pool  of  being, 

And  the  circle  of  absolute  perfection,  the  abstract  cipher  of  indolence. 

Sin  is  an  awful  shadow,  but  it  addeth  new  glories  to  the  light ; 

Sin  is  a  black  foil,  but  it  setteth  off  the  jewelry  of  heaven ; 

Sin  is  the  traitor  that  hath  dragged  the  majesty  of  mercy  into  action.* 


54  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Sin  's  the  whelming  argument,  to  justify  the  attribute  of  vengeance. 

It  is  a  deep  dark  thought,  and  needeth  to  be  diligently  studied, 

But  perchance  evil  was  essential,  that  God  should  be  seen  of  his  creatures: 

For  where  perfection  is  not,  there  lacketh  possible  good, 

And  the  absence  of  better  that  might  be,  taketh  from  the  praise  of  it  is 

well : 

And  creatures  must  be  finite,  and  finite  cannot  be  perfect ; 
Therefore,  though  in  small  degree,  creation  involveth  evil, 
He  chargeth  his  angels  with  folly,  and  the  heavens  'are  not  clean  in  His 

sight : 

For  every  existence  in  the  universe  hath  either  imperfection  or  Godhead : 
And  the  light  that  blazeth  but  in  One,  must  be  softened  with  shadow  for 

the  many. 

There  is  then  good  in  evil ;  or  none  could  have  known  his  Maker ; 
No  spiritual  intellect  or  essence  could  have  gazed  on  his  high  perfections, 
No  angel  harps  could  have  tuned  the  wonders  of  his  wisdom, 
No  ransomed  souls  have  praised  the  glories  of  his  mercy, 
No  howling  fiends  have  shown  the  terrors  of  his  justice, 
.But  God  would  have  dwelt  alone  in  the  fearful  solitude  of  holiness. 

Nevertheless,  O  sinner,  harden  not  thine  heart  in  evil ; 

Nor  plume  tliee  in  imaginary  triumph,  because  thou  art  not  valueless  aa 

vile; 

Because  thy  dark  abominations  add  lustre  to  the  charity  of  Light ; 
Because  a  wonder-working  alchemy  draineth  elixir  out  of  poisons  ; 
Because  the  same  fiery  volcano  that  scorcheth  and  ravageth  a  continent, 
Hath  in  the  broad  blue  bay  cast  up  some  petty  island ; 
Because  to  the  full  demonstration  of  the  qualities  and  accidents  of  good, 
The  swarthy  legions  of  the  devil  have  toiled  as  unwitting  pioneers : 
For  sin  is  still  sin  ;  so  hateful  Love  dotli  hate  it ; 
A  blot  on  the  glory  of  creation,  which  justice  must  wipe  out. 
Sin  is  a  loathsome  leprosy,  fretting  the  white  robe  of  innocence ; 
A  rottenness,  eating  out  the  heart  of  the  royal  cedars  of  Lebanon ; 
A  pestilential  blast,  the  terror  of  that  holy  pilgrimage ; 
A  rent  in  the  sacred  veil,  whereby  God  left  his  temple. 
Therefore,  consider  thyself,  thou  that  dost  not  sorrow  for  thy  guilt: 
Fear  evil,  or  face  its  enemy :  dread  sin,  or  dare  justice. 

Yea,  saith  the  Spirit :  and  their  works  do  follow  them ; 


OF  GOOD  IN  THINGS  EVIL.  55 

Habits,  and  thoughts,  and  deeds,  are  shadows  and  satellites  of  self. 

What !  shall  the  claimant  to  a  throne  stand  forward  with  a  rabble  rout,—  - 

Meanness,  impiety,  and  lust ;  riot  and  indolence  and  vanity  ? 

Nay,  man  !  the  train  wherewith  thou  comest  attend  whither  thou  shalt  go ; 

A  throne  for  a  king's  son,  but  an  inner  dungeon  for  the  felon. 

For  a  man's  works  do  follow  him  :  bodily,  standing  in  the  judgment, 

Behold  the  false  accuser,  behold  the  slandered  saint ; 

The  slave,  and  his  bloody  driver ;  the  poor,  and  his  generous  friend ; 

The  simple  dupe,  and  the  crafty  knave :  the  murderer,  and — his  victim  ! 

Yet  all  are  in.  many  characters    the  best  stand  guilty  at  the  bar ; 

And  he  that  seemed  the  worst  may  have  most  of  real  excuse. 

The  talents  unto  which  a  man  is  born,  be  they  few  or  many, 

Are  dropped  into  the  balance  of  account,  working  unlooked-for  changes, 

And  perchance  the  convict  from  the  galleys  may  stand  above  the  hermit 

from  his  cell, 

For  that  the  obstacles  in  one  outweigh  the  propensions  in  the  other. 
There  be,  who  have  made    themselves    friends,  yea,  by  unrighteous 

mammon, — 

Friends,  ready  waiting  as  an  escort  to  those  everlasting  habitations ; 
Embodied  in  living  witnesses,  thronging  to  meet  them  in  a  cloud, 
Charity,  meekness  and  truth,  zeal,  sincerity  and  patience. 
There  be,  who  have  made  themselves  foes,  yea,  by  honest  gain, 
Foes,  whose   plaint  must   have  its  answer,  before  the  bright  portal  is 

unbarred : 

Pride,  and  selfishness,  and  sloth,  apathy,  wrath,  and  falsehood, 
Bind  to  their  everlasting  toil  many  that  must  weary  in  the  fires. 
Love  hath  a  power  and  a  longing  to  save  the  gathered  world, 
And  rescue  universal  man  from  the  hunting  hell-hounds  of  his  doings : 
Yet  few,  here  one  and  there  one,  scanty  as  the  gleaning  after  harvest, 
Are  glad  of  the  robes  of  praise  which  Mercy  would  fling  around  the 

naked ; 

But  wrapping  closer  to  their  skin  the  poisoned  tunic  of  their  works, 
They  stand  in  self-dependence  to  perish  ha  abandonment  of  God. 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


OF    PRAYER. 

A  WTCKED  man  scorneth  prajer,  in  the  shallow  sophistry  of  reason, 
He  deridetli  the  silly  hope,  that  God  can  be  moved  by  supplication  I—- 
Can the  unchangeable  be  changed,  or  waver  in  his  purpose  ? 
Can  the  weakness  of  pity  affect  him  ?     Should  he  turn  at  the  bidding  of  a 

man  ? 

Methought  he  ruled  all  things,  and  ye  called  his  decrees  immutable, 
But  if  thus  he  listeneth  to  words,  wherein  is  the  firmness  of  his  will  ? — • 
So  I  heard  the  speech  of  the  wicked,  and,  lo,  it  was  smoother  than  oil ; 
But  I  knew  that  his  reasonings  were  false,  for  the  promise  of  the  Scripture 

is  true, : 

Yet  was  my  soul  in  darkness,  for  his  words  were  too  hard  for  me  ; 
Till  I  turned  to  my  God  in  prayer,  for  I  know  he  heareth  always.     ' 
Then  I  looked  abroad  on  the  earth,  and,  behold,  the  Lord  was  in  all  things, 
Yet  saw  I  not  his  hand  in  aught,  but  perceived  that  he  worketh  by  means  ; 
Yea,  and  the  power  of  the  mean  proveth  the  wisdom  that  ordained  it ; 
Yea,  and  no  act  is  useless,  to  the  hurling  of  a  stone  through  the  air. 
So  I  turned  my  thoughts  to  supplication,  and  beheld  the  mercies  of  Je- 
hovah, 

And  I  saw  sound  argument  was  still  the  faithful  friend  of  godliness ; 
For  as  the  rock  of  the  affections  is  the  solid  approval  of  reason, 
Even  so  the  temple  of  Religion  is  founded  on  the  basis  of  Pliilosophy. 

Scorner,  thy  thoughts  are  weak,  they  reach  not  the  summit  of  the  matter. 
Go  to,  for  the  mouth  of  a  child  might  show  thee  the  mystery  of  prayer : 
Verily,  there  is  no  change  in  the  counsels  of  the  Mighty  Ruler : 
Verily,  his  purpose  is  strong,  and  rooted  in  the  depths  of  necessity : 
But  who  hath  shown  thee  his  purpose,  who  hath  made  known  to  thee  his 

will? 

When,  O  gainsayer,  hast  thou  been  schooled  in  the  secrets  of  wisdom  ? 
Fate  is  a  creature  of  God,  and  all  things  move  in  their  orbits, 
And  that  which  shall  surely  happen  is  known  unto  him  from  eternity ; 
But  as,  in  the  field  of  nature,  he  useth  the  sinews  of  the  ox, 
And  commandeth  diligence  and  toil,  himself  giving  the  increase, 
So,  in  the  kingdom  of  his  grace,  granteth  he  omnipotence  to  prayer, 
For  he  knoweth  wliat  thou  wilt  ask,  and  what  thou  wilt  ask  aright. 


OF  PRAYER.  57 

No  man  can  pray  in  faith,  whose  prayer  is  not  grounded  on  a  promise: 
Yet  a  good  man  commendeth  all  things  to  the  righteous  wisdom  of  his  God : 
For  those  who  pray  in  faith,  trust  the  immutable  Jehovah, 
And  they  who  ask  blessings  unpromised,  lean  on  uncovenanted  mercy. 

Man,  regard  thy  prayers  as  a  purpose  of  love  to  thy  soul ; 
Esteem  the  providence  that  led  to  them  as  an  index  of  God's  good-will: 
So  shalt  thou  pray  aright,  and  thy  words  shall  meet  with  acceptance. 
Also,  in  pleading  for  others,  be  thankful  for  the  fullness  of  thy  prayer. 
For  if  thou  art  ready  to  ask,  the  Lord  is  more  ready  to  bestow. 
The  salt  preserveth  the  sea,  and  the  saints  uphold  the  earth  ; 
Their  prayers  are  the  thousand  pillars  that  prop  the  canopy  of  nature. 
Verily,  an  hour  without  prayer,  from  some  terrestrial  mind, 
Were  a  curse  in  the  calendar  of  time,  a  spot  of  the  blackness  of  darkness. 
Perchance  the  terrible  day,  when  the  world  must  rock  into  ruins, 
Will  be  one  unwhitened  by  prayer, — shall  He  find  faith  on  the  earth  ? 
For  there  is  an  economy  of  mercy,  as  of  wisdom,  and  power,  and  means ; 
Neither  is  one  blessing  granted,  unbesought  from  the  treasury  of  good ; 
And  the  charitable  heart  of  the  Being,  to  depend  upon  whom  is  happiness, 
Never  withholdeth  a  bounty,  so  long  as  his  subject  prayeth ; 
Yea,  ask  what  thou  wilt,  to  the  second  throne  in  heaven, 
It  is  thine,  for  whom  it  was  appointed ;  there  is  no  limit  unto  prayer : 
But  and  if  thou  cease  to  ask,  tremble,  thou  self-suspended  creature, 
For  thy  strength  is  cut  off  as  was  Samson's :  and  the  hour  of  thy  doom  is 
come. 

Frail  art  thou,  O  man,  as  a  bubble  on  the  breaker, 
Weak  and  governed  by  externals,  like  a  poor  bird  caught  in  the  storm ; 
Yet  thy  momentary  breath  can  still  the  raging  waters, 
Thy  hand  can  touch  a  lever  that  may  move  the  world. 
O  Merciful,  we  strike  eternal  covenant  with  thee, 
For  man  may  take  for  his  ally  the  King  who  ruleth  kings ; 
How  strong,  yet  how  most  weak,  in  utter  poverty  how  rich, 
What  possible  omnipotence  to  good  is  dormant  in  a  man ! 
Behold  that  fragile  form  of  delicate  transparent  beauty, 
Whose  light-blue  eye  and  hectic  cheek  are  lit  by  the  balefires  of  decline, 
All  droopingly  she  lieth,  as  a  dew-laden  lily, 

Her  flaxen  tresses,  rashly  luxuriant,  dank  with  unhealthy  moisture : 
Hath  not  thy  heart  said  of  her,  Alas !  poor  child  of  weakness  ? 

3* 


58  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Thou  hast  erred ;  Goliath  of  Gath  stood  not  in  half  her  strength  : 
Terribly  she  fighteth  in  the  van  as  the  virgin  daughter  of  Orleans, 
She  beareth  the  banner  of  heaven,  her  onset  is  the  rushing  cataract, 
Seraphim  rallv  at  her  side,  and  the  captain  of  that  host  is  God, 
And  the  serried  ranks  of  evil  are  routed  by  the  lightning  of  her  eye  ; 
She  is  the  King's  remembrancer,  and  steward  of  many  blessings, 
Holding  the  buckler  of  security  over  her  unthankful  land  ; 
For  that  weak  fluttering  heart  is  strong  in  faith  assured, 
Dependence  is  her  might,  and  behold — she  prayeth. 

Angels  are  round  the  good  man,  to  catch  the  incense  of  his  prayers, 

And  they  fly  to  minister  kindness  to  those  for  whom  he  pleadeth  ; 

For  the  altar  of  his  heart  is  lighted,  and  burneth  before  God  continually, 

And  he  breatheth,  conscious  of  his  joy,  the  native  atmosphere  of  heaven ; 

Yea,  though  poor,  and  comtemned,  and  ignorant  of  this  world's  wisdom  ; 

111  can  his  fellows  spare  him,  though  they  know  not  of  his  value ; 

Thousands  bewail  a  hero,  and  a  nation  mourneth  for  its  king, 

But  the  whole  universe  lamenteth  the  loss  of  a  man  of  prayer. 

Verily,  were  it  not  for  One,  who  sitteth  on  his  rightful  throne, 

Crowned  with  a  rainbow  of  emerald,  (l5)  the  green  memorial  of  earth,— 

For  one,  a  mediating  man,  that  hath  clad  his  Godhead  with  mortality, 

And  ofFereth  prayer  without  ceasing,  the  royal  priest  of  Nature, 

Matter  and  life  and  mind  had  sunk  into  dark  annihilation, 

And  the  lightning  frown  of  Justice  withered  the  world  into  nothing. 

«: 

Thus,  O  worshipper  of  reason,  thou  hast  heard  th«  sum  of  the  matter ; 

And  woe  to  his  hairy  scalp  that  restraineth  prayer  before  God. 

Prayer  is  a  creature's  strength,  his  very  breath  and  being ; 

Prayer  is  the  golden  key  that  can  open  the  wicket  of  Mercy ; 

Prayer  is  the  magic  sound  that  saith  to  Fate,  So  be  it ; 

Prayer  is  the  slender  nerve  that  moveth  the  muscles  of  Omnipotence. 

Wherefore,  pray,  O  creature,  for  many  and  great  are  thy  wants ; 

Thy  mind,  thy  conscience,  and  thy  being,  thy  rights  commend  thee  unto 

prayer,  % 

The  cure  of  all  cares,  the  grand  panacea  for  all  pains, 
Doubt's  destroyer,  ruin's  remedy,  the  antidote  to  all  anxieties. 

So  then,  God  is  true,  and  yet  He  hath  not  changed : 

It  is  he  that  sendeth  the  petition,  to  answer  it  according  to  his  will. 


THE  LORD'S  PRAYER.  59 


THE    LORD'S    PRAYER. 

INQUIREST  thou,  O  man,  wherewithal  may  I  come  unto  the  Lord  ? 

And  with  what  wonder-working  sounds  may  I  move  the  majesty  of  heaven  ? 

There  is  a  model  to  thy  hand  ;  upon  that  do  thou  frame  thy  supplication ; 

Wisdom  hath  measured  its  words,  and  redemption  urgeth  thee  to  use  them. 

Call  thy  God  thy  Father,  and  yet  not  thine  alone, 

For  *hou  art  but  one  of  many,  thy  brotherhood  is  with  all : 

Remember  his  high  estate,  that  he  dwelleth  King  of  Heaven ; 

So  shall  thy  thoughts  be  humbled,  nor  love  be  unmixed  with  reverence  : 

Be  thy  first  petition  unselfish,  the  honour  of  Him  who  made  thee, 

And  that  in  the  depths  of  thy  heart,  his  memory  be  shrined  in  holiness : 

Pray  for  that  blessed  time  when  good  shall  triumph  over  evil, 

And  one  universal  temple  echo  the  perfections  of  Jehovah  : 

Bend  thou  to  his  good-will,  and  subserve  his  holy  purposes, 

Till  in  thee,  and  those  around  thee,  grow  a  little  heaven  upon  earth : 

Humbly  as  a  grateful  almsman,  beg  thy  bread  of  God, — 

Bread  for  thy  triple  estate,  for  thou  hast  a  trinity  of  nature  : 

Humility  smootheth  the  way,  and  gratitude  softeneth  the  heart, 

Be  then  thy  prayer  for  pardon  mingled  with  the  tear  of  penitence ; 

.Yea,  and  while,  all  unworthy,  thou  leanest  on  the  hand  that  should  smite, 

Thou  canst  not  from  thy  fellows  withhold  thy  less  forgiveness. 

To  thy  Father  thy  weaknesses  are  known,  and  thou  hast  not  hid  thy  sin, 

Therefore  ask  him,  in  all  trust,  to  lead  thee  from  the  dangers  of -temptation  ; 

While  the  last  petition  of  the  soul  that  breatheth  on  the  confines  of  prayer 

Is  deliverance  from  sin  and  the  evil  one,  the  miseries  of  earth  and  hell. 

And  wherefore,  child  of  hope,  should  the  rock  of  thy  confidence  be  sure  ? 

Thou  knovvest  that  God  heareth,  and  promiseth  an  answer  of  peace  ; 

Thou  knowest  that  he  is  King,  and  none  can  stay  his  hand ; 

Thou  knowest  his  power  to  be  boundless,  for  there  is  none  other : 

And  to  Him  thou  givest  glory,  as  a  creature  of  his  workmanship  and  favour 

For  the.  never-ending  term  of  thv  «aved  and  bright  existence. 


60  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


OF    DISCRETION. 

FOR  what  then  was  I  born  ? — to  fill  the  circling  year 
With  daily  toil  for  daily  bread,  with  sordid  pains  and  pleasures  I—- 
To walk  this  chequered  world,  alternate  light  and  darkness, 
Tiie  day  dreams  of  deep  thought  followed  by  the  night-dreams  of  fancy  ?— 
To  be  one  in  a  full  procession  ? — to  dig  my  kindred  clay  ? — 
To  decorate  the  gallery  of  art  ? — to  clear  a  few  acres  of  forest  ? 
For  more  than  these,  my  soul,  thy  God  hath  lent  thee  life. 
Is  then  that  noble  end  to  feed  this  mind  with  knowledge, 
To  mix  for  mine  own  thirst  the  sparkling  wine  of  wisdom, 
To  light  with  many  lamps  the  caverns^  of  my  heart, 
To  reap,  in  the  furrows  of  my  brain,  good  harvest  of  right  reasons  ?— 
For  more  than  these,  my  soul,  thy  God  hath  lent  thee  life. 
Is  it  to  grow  stronger  in  self-government,  to  check  the  chafing  will, 
To  curb  with  tightening  rein  the  mettled  steeds  of  passion, 
To  welcome  with  calm  heart,  far  in  the  voiceless  desert, 
The  gracious  visitings  of  heaven  that  bless  my  single  self? 
For  more  than  these,  my  soul,  thy  God  hath  lent  thee  life. 
To  aim  at  thine  own  happiness,  is  an  end  idolatrous  and  evil : 
In  earth,  yea  in  heaven,  if  thou  seek  it  for  itself,  seeking  thou  shall  not  find,, 
Happiness  is  a  roadside  flower,  growing  on  the  highways  of  Usefulness ; 
Plucked,  it  shall  wither  in  thy  hand  ;  passed  by,  it  is  fragrance  to  thy  spirit; 
Love  not  thine  own  soul,  regard  not  thine  own  weal, 
Trample  the  thyme  beneath  thy  feet ;  be  useful,  and  be  happy  ! 

Thus  unto  fair  conclusions  argueth  generous  youth, 

And  quickly  he  starteth  on  his  course,  knight-errant  to  do  good. 

His  sword  is  edged  with  arguments,  his  vizor  terrible  with  censures ; 

He  goeth  full  mailed  in  faith,  and  zeal  is  flaming  at  his  heart. 

Yet  one  thing  he  lacketh,  tfte  Mentor  of  the  mind. 

The  quiet  whisper  of  Discretion — Thy  time  is  not  yet  come. 

For  he  smiteth  an  oppressor ;  and  vengeance  for  that  smiting 

Is  dealt  in  double  stripes  on  the  faint  body  of  the  victim : 

He  is  glad  to  give  and  to  distribute ;  and  clamorous  pauperism  feasteth, 

While  honest  labour,  pining,  hideth  his  sharp  ribs : 

He  challengeth  to  a  fair  field  that  subtle  giant  Infidelity, 


OF  DISCRETION.  6] 

And  worsted  in  the  unequal  fight,  strengthened  the  hands  of  error : 

He  hasteth  to  teach  and  preach,  as  the  war-horse  rusheth  to  the  battle, 

And  to  pave  a  way  for  truth,  would  break  up  the  Apennines  of  prejudice : 

He  wearieth  by  stale  proofs,  where  none  looked  fur  a  reason, 

And  to  the  listening  ear  will  urge  the  false  argument  of  feeling. 

So  hath  it  often  been,  that,  judging  by  results, 

The  hottest  friends  of  truth  have  done  her  deadliest  wrong. 

Alas  !  for  there  are  enemies  without,  glafl  enough  to  parley  with  a  traitor 

And  a  zealot  will  let  down  the  drawbridge,  to  prove  hi*  own  prowess : 

Yea,  from  within  will  he  break  away  a  breach  in  the  citadel  of  truth 

That  he  may  fill  the  gap,  for  fame,  with  his  own  weak  body. 

Zeal  without  judgment  is  an  evil,  though  it  be  zeal  unto  good : 
Touch  not  the  ark  with  unclean  hand,  yea,  though  it  seem  to  totter. 
There  are  evil  who  work  good,  and  there  are  good  who  work  evil, 
And  foolish  backers  of  wisdom  have  brought  on  her  many  reproaches. 
Truth  hath  more  than  enough  to  combat  in  the  minds  of  all  men, 
For  the  mist  of  sense  is  a  thick  veil,  and  sin  hath  warped  their  wills ; 
Yet  doth  an  officious  helper  awkwardly  prevent  her  victory, — 
These  thy  wounded  hands  were  smitten  in  the  house  of  friends : — 
To  point  out  a  meaning  in  her  words,  he  will  blot  those  words  with  his 

finger; 

And  winnow  chaff  into  the  eyes,  before  he  hath  wheat  to  show : 
He  will  heap  sturdy  logs  on  a  faint  expiring  fire, 
And  with  a  room  in  flames,  will  cast  the  casement  open ; 
By  a  shoulder  to  the  wheel  downhill  harasseth  the  labouring  beast, 
And  where  obstruction  were  needed,  will  harm  by  an  ill-judged  thrusting-on. 
A  vessel  foundereth  at  sea,  if  a  storm  have  unshipped  the  rudder ; 
And  a  mind  with  much  sail  shall  require  heavy  ballast. 
Take  a  lever  by  the  middle,  thou  shalt  seem  to  prove  it  powerless, 
Argue  for  truth  indiscjeetly,  thou  shalt  toil  for  falsehood. 
There  is  plenty  of  room  for  a  peaceable  man  in  the  most  thronged  assembly; 
But  a  quarrelsome  spirit  is  straitened  in* the  open  field : 
Many  a  teacher,  lacking  judgment,  hindereth  his  own  lessons  ; 
And  the  savoury  mess  of  pottage  is  spoiled  by  a  bitter  herb : 
The  garment  woven  of  a  piece  is  rashly  torn  by  schism, 
Because  its  unwise  claimants  will  not  cast  lots  for  its  possession. 

Discretion  guide  thee  on  thy  way,  noble-minded  youth, 


69  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Help  thee  to  humour  infirmities,  to  wink  at  innocent  errors, 

To  take  small  count  of  forms,  to  bear  with  prejudice  and  fancy : 

Discretion  guard  thine  asking,  discretion  aid  thine  answer, 

Teach  thee  that  well-timed  silence  hath  more  eloquence  than  speech, 

Whisper  thee,  thou  art  Weakness,  though  thy  cause  be  strength, 

And  tail  thee,  the  keystone  of  an  arch  can  be  loosened  with  least  labou? 

from  within. 

The  snows  of  Hecla  lie  around  its  troubled  smoking  Geysers ; 
Let  the  cool  streams  of  prudence  temper  the  hot  spring  of  zeal : 
So  shalt  thou  gain  thine  honourable  end,  nor  lose  the  midway  prixe ; 
So  shall  thy  life  be  useful,  and  thy  young  heart  happy. 


OF    TRIFLES. 

• 

YET  once  more,  saitl>  the  fool,  yet  once,  and  is  it  not  a  little  one  ? 
Spare  me  this  folly  yet  an  hour,  for  what  is  one  among  so  many  ? 
And  he  blindeth  his  conscience  with  lies,  and  stupefieth  his  heart  with 

doubts ; — 

Whom  shall  I  harm  in  this  matter  ?  and  a  little  ill  breedeth  much  good ; 
My  thoughts,  are  they  not  mine  own  ?  and  they  leave  no  mark  behind  them  ; 
And  if  God  so  pardoneth  crime,  how  should  these  petty  sins  affect  him  ? — 
So  he  transgresseth  yet  again,  and  falleth  by  little  and  little, 
Till  the  ground  crumble  beneath  him,  and  he  sinketh  in  the  gulf  despairing. 
For  there  is  nothing  in  the  earth  so  small  that  it  may  not  produce  great 

things, 

And  no  swerving  from  a  right  line,  that  may  not  lead  eternally  astray. 
A  landmark  tree  was  once  a  seed,  and  the  dust  in  the  balance  maketh  a 

difference ; 

And  the  cairn  is  heaped  high  by  each  one  flinging  a  pebble : 
The  dangerous  bar  in  the  harbour's  mouth  is  only  grains  of  sand  ; 
And  the  shoal  that  hath  wrecked  a  navy  is  the  work  of  a  colony  of  worms : 
Yea,  and  a  despicable  gnat  may  madden  the  mighty  elephant ; 
And  the  living  rock  is  worn  by  the  diligent  flow  of  the  brook. 
Little  art  thou,  O  man,  and  in  trifles  thou  contendest  with  thine  equals, 
For  atoms  must  crowd  upon  atoms,  ere  crime  groweth  to  be  a  giant. 


OF  TRIFLES.  63 

What,  is  thy  servant  a  dog  ? — not  yet  wilt  thou  grasp  the  dagger, 

Not  yet  wilt  thou  laugh  with  tl>e  scoffers,  not  yet  betray  the  innocent : 

But,  if  thou  nourish  in  thy  heart  the  reveries  of  injury  or  passion, 

And  travel  in  mental  heat  the  mazy  labyrinths  of  guilt, 

And  then  conceive  it  possible,  and  then  reflect  on  it  as  done, 

And  use,  by  little  and  little,  thyself  to  regard  thyself  a  villain, 

Not  long  will  crime  be  absent  from  the  voice  that  doth  invoke  him  to  tn 

heart, 
And  bitterly  wilt  thou  grieve,  that  the  buds  have  ripened  into  poison. 

A  spark  is  a  molecule  of  matter,  yet  it  may  kindle  the  world ; 

Vast  is  the  mighty  ocean,  but  drops  have  made  it  ^ast. 

Despise  not  thou  a  small  thing,  either  for  evil  or  for  good ; 

For  a  look  may  work  thy  ruin,  or  a  word  create  thy  wealth  : 

The  walking  this  way  or  that,  the  casual  stopping  or  hastening, 

Hath  saved  life,  and  destroyed  it,  hath  cast  down  and  built  up  fortunes. 

Commit  thy  trifles  unto  God,  for  to  him  is  nothing  trivial ; 

And  it  is  but  the  littleness  of  man  that  seeth  no  greatness  in  a  trifle. 

All  things  are  infinite  in  parts,  and  the  moral  is  as  the  material, 

Neither  is  any  thing  vast,  but  it  is  compacted  of  atoms. 

Thou  art  wise,  and  shall  find  comfort,  if  thou  study  thy  pleasure  in  trifles, 

For  slender  joys,  often  repeated,  fall  as  sunshine  on  the  heart : 

Thou  art  wise,  if  thou  beat  off  petty  troubles,  nor  suffer  their  stinging  to 

fret  thee : 

Thrust  not  thine  'hand  among  the  thorns,  but  with  a  leathern  glove. 
Regard  nothing  lightly  which  the  wisdom  of  Providence  hath  ordered  ; 
And  therefore,  consider  all  things  that  happen  unto  thee  or  unto  others. 
The  warrior  that  stood  against  a  host,  may  be  pierced  unto  death  by  a 

needle ; 

And  the  saint  that  fearetli  not  the  fire,  may  perish  the  victim  of  a  thought. 
A  mote  in  the  gunner's  eye  is  as  bad  as  a  spike  in  the  gun ; 
And  the  cable  of  a  furlong  is  lost  through  an  ill-wrought  inch. 
The  streams  of  small  pleasures  fill  the  lake  of  happiness  : 
And  the  deepest  wretchedness  of  life  is  continuance  of  petty  pains. 
A  fool  observeth  nothing,  and  seemeth  wise  unto  himself; 
A  wise  man  heedeth  all  things,  and  in  his  own  eyes  is  a  fool : 
He  that  \vouaereth  at  nothing  hath  no  capabilities  of  bliss  ; 
But  he  that  scrutinizeth  trifles  hath  a  store  of  pleasure  to  his  hand. 
U pestilence  stalk  through  the  land,  ye  say,  This  is  God's  doing; 


64  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

.s  it  not  also  His  doing,  when  an  aphis  creepeth  on  a  rose-bud  ? — 

If  an  avalanche  roll  from  its  Alp,  ye  tremble  at  the  will  of  Providence ; 

Is  not  that  will  concerned  when  the  sear  leaves  fall  from  the  poplar  ?— 

A  thing  is  great  or  little  only  to  a  mortal's  thinking, 

But  abstracted  from  the  body,  all  things  are  alike  important : 

The  Ancient  of  Days  noteth  in  his  book  the  idle  converse  of  a  creature 

And  happy  and  wise  is  the  man  to  whose  thought  existeth  not  a  trifle. 


OF    RECREATION. 

To  join  advantage  to  amusement,  to  gather  profit  with  pleasure, 

Is  the  wise  man's  necessary  aim,  when  he  lieth  in  the  shade  of  recre 

ation, 

For  he  cannot  fling  aside  his  mind,  nor  bar  up  the  floodgates  of  his  wisdom ; 
Yea,  though  he  strain  after  folly,  his  mental  monitor  shall  check  him : 
For  knowledge  and  ignorance  alike  have  laws  essential  to  their  being,— 
The  sage  studieth  amusements,  and  the  simple  laugheth  in  his  studies. 
Few,  but  full  of  understanding,  are  the  books  of  the  library  of  God, 
And  fitting  for  all  seasons  are  the  gain  and  the  gladness  they  bestow : 
The  volume  of  mystery  and  Grace,  for  the  hour  of  deep  communings, 
When  the  soul  considereth  intensely  the  startling  marvel  of  itself: 
The  book  of  destiny  and  Providence  for  the  time  of  sober  study, 
When  the  mind  gleaneth  wisdom  from  the  olive  grove  of  history : 
And  the  cheerful  pages  of  Nature,  to  gladden  the  pleasant  holiday, 
When  the  task  of  duty  is  complete,  and  the  heart  swelleth  high  with  sat- 
isfaction. 

The  soul  may  not  safely  dwell  too  long  with  the  deep  things  of  futurity; 
The  mind  may  not  always  be  bent  back,  like  the  Parthian,  straining  at  the 
past:(is)  * 

And,  if  thou  art  wearied  with  wrestling  on  the  broad  arena  of  science, 
Leave  awhile  thy  friendly  foe,  half  vanquished  in  the  dust, 
Refresh  thy  jaded  limbs,  return  with  vigour  to  the  strife, — 
Thou  shalt  easier  find  thyself  his  master,  for  the  vacant  interval  of  leisure. 

That  which  may  profit  and  amuse  is  gathered  from  the  volume  of  creation, 


OF  RECREATION.  66 

For  every  chapter  therein  teemeth  with  the  playfulness  of  wisdom. 

The  elements  of  all  things  are  the  same,  though  nature  hath  mixed  them 

with  a  difference, 

And  Learning  delighteth  to  discover  the  affinity  of  seeming  opposites : 
So  out  of  great  things  and  small  draweth  he  the  secrets  of  the  universe, 
And  argueth  the  cycles  of  the  stars,  from  a  pebble  flung  by  a  a  child. 
It  is  pleasant  to  note  ah1  plants,  from  the  rush  to  the  spreading  cedar, 
From  the  giant  king  of  palms,  (IT)  to  the  lichen  that  staineth  its  stem : 
To  watch  the  workings  of  instinct,  that  grosser  reason  of  brutes, — 
The  river-horse  browsing  in  the  jungle,  the  plover  screaming  on  the 

moor, 
The  cayman,  basking  on  a  mud-bank,  and  the  walrus  anchored  to  an 

iceberg, 

The  dog  at  his  master's  feet,  and  the  milk-kine  lowing  in  the  meadow ; 
To  trace  the  consummate  skill  that  hath  modelled  the  anatomy  of  insects, 
Small  fowls  that  sun  their  wings  on  the  petals  of  wild  flowers  ; 
To  learn  a  use  in  the  beetle,  and  more  than  a  beauty  in  the  butterfly ; 
To  recognize  affection  in  a  moth,  and  look  with  admiration  on  a  spider. 
It  is  glorious  to  gaze  upon  the  firmament,  and  see  from  far  the  mansions 

of  the  blest, 

Each  distant  shining  world,  a  kingdom  for  one  of  the  redeemed ; 
To  read  the  antique  history  of  earth,  stamped  upon  those  medals  in  the 

rocks 
Which  Design  hath  rescued  from  decay,  to  tell  of  the  green  infancf  ->f 

time ; 

To  gather  from  the  unconsidercd  shingle  mottled  star-like  agates, 
Full  of  unstoried  flowers  in  the  bubbling  bloom-chalcedony : 
Or  gay  and  curious  shells,  fretted  with  microscopic  carving,  » 

Corallines,  and  fresh  seaweeds,  spreading  forth  their  delicate  branches 
It  is  an  admirable  lore,  to  learn  the  cause  in  the  change, 
To  study  the  chemistry  of  Nature,  her  grand,  but  simple  secrets. 
To  search  out  all  her  wonders,  to  track  the  resources  of  her  skill, 
To  note  her  kind  compensations,  her  unobtrusive  excellence. 
In  all  it  is  wise  happiness  to  see  the  well-ordained  laws  of  Jehovah, 
The  harmony  that  filleth  all  his  mind,  the  justice  that  tempereth  hi» 

bounty, 

The  wonderful  all-prevalent  analogy  that  testifieth  one  Creator, 
The  broad  arrow  of  the  Great  King,  carved  on  ah1  the  stores  of  his  arsena.. 
But  beware,  O  worshipper  of  God,  thou  forget  not  him  in  his  dealings, 


65  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Though  the  bright  emanations  of  his  power  hide  him  in  created  glory ; 
For  if,  on  the  sea  of  knowledge,  thou  regardest  not  the  pole-star  of  reli- 
gion, 

Thy  bark  will  miss  her  port,  and  run  upon  the  sandbar  of  folly : 
And  if,  enamoured  of  the  means,  thou  considerest  not  the  scope  to  which 

they  tend, 
Wherein  art  thou  wiser  than  the  child,  that  is  pleased  with  toys  and 

baubles? 

Verily,  a,  trifling  scholar,  thou  heedest  but  the  letter  of  instruction  : 
For  as  motive  is  spirit  unto  action,  as  memory  endeareth  place, 
As  the  sun  doth  fertilize  the  earth,  as  affection  quickeneth  the  heart, 
So  is  the  remembrance  of  God  in  the  varied  wonders  of  creation. 

Man  hath  found  out  inventions,  to  cheat  him  of  the  weariness  of  life, 

To  help  him  to  forget  realities,  and  hide  the  misery  of  guilt. 

For  love  of  praise,  and  hope  of  gain,  for  passion  and  delusive  happiness, 

He  joineth  the  circle  of  folly,  and  heapeth  on  the  fire  of  excitement ; 

Oftentimes  sadly  out  of  heart  at  the  tiresome  insipidity  of  pleasure, 

Oftentimes  labouring  in  vain,  convinced  of  the  palpable  deceit ; 

Yet  a  man  speaketh  to  his  brother,  in  the  voice  of  glad  congratulation, 

And  thinketh  others  happy,  though  he  himself  be  wretched : 

And  hand  joineth  hand  to  help  in  the  toil  of  amusement, 

While  the  secret  aching  heart  is  vacant  of  all  but  disappointment. 

The  cheapest  pleasures  are  the  best ;  and  nothing  is  more  costly  than  sin  j 

Yet  we  mortgage  futurity,  counting  it  but  little  loss ; 

Neither  can  a  man  delight  in  that  which  breedeth  sorrow, 

Yet  do  we  hunt  for  joy  even  in  the  fires  that  consume  it. 

W^ioso  would  find  gladness  may  meet  her  in  the  hovel  of  poverty, 

Where  benevolence  hath  scattered  around  the  gleanings  of  the  horn  of 

plenty ; 

Whoso  would  sun  himself  in  peace,  may  be  seen  of  her  in  deeds  of  mercy, 
When  the  pale  lean  cheek  of  the  destitute  is  wet  with  grateful  tears. 
If  the  mind  is  wearied  by  study,  or  the  body  worn  with  sickness, 
It  is  well  to  lie  fallow  for  a  while,  in  the  vacancy  of  sheer  amusement ; 
But  when  thou  prosperest  in  health,  and  thine  intellect  can  soar  untired, 
To  seek  uninstructive  pleasure  is  to  slumber  on  the  couch  of  indolence. 


THE  TRAIN  OF  RELIGION.  67 

• 

THE    TRAIN    OF    RELIGION. 

STAY  awhile,  thou  blessed  baud,  be  entreated,  daughters  of  heaven ! 
While  the  chance-met  scholar  of  Wisdom  learneth  your  sacred  names : 
He  is  resting  a  little  from  his  toil,  yet  a  little  on  the  borders  of  earth, 
And  fain  would  he  have  you  his  friends,  to  bid  him  glad  welcome  hereafter. 
Who  among  the  glorious  art  thou,  that  walkest  a  Goddess  and  a  Queen, 
Thy  crown  of  living  stars,  and  a  golden  cross  thy  sceptre  ? 
Who  among  flowers  of  loveliness  is  she,  thy  seeming  herald, 
Yet  she  boasteth  not  thee  nor  herself,  and  her  garments  are  plain  in  their 

neatness  ? 

Wherefore  is  there  one  among  the  train,  whose  eyes  are  red  with  weeping, 
Yet  is  her  open  forehead  beaming  with  the  sun  of  ecstasy  ? 
And  who  is  that  blood-stained  warrior,  with  glory  sitting  on  his  crest  ? 
And  who  that  solemn  sage,  calm  in  majestic  dignity  ? 
Also,  in  the  lengthening  troop  see  I  some  clad  in  robes  of  triumph, 
Whose  fair  and  sunny  faces  I  have  known  and  loved  on  earth : 
Welcome,  ye  glorified  Loves,  Graces,  and  Sciences,  and  Muses, 
That,  like  sisters  of  charity,  tended  in  this  world's  hospital ; 
Welcome,  for  verily  I  knew,  ye  could  not  but  be  children  of  the  light, 
Though  earth  hath  soiled  your  robes,  and  robbed  you  of  half  your  glory ; 
Welcome,  chiefly  welcome,  for  I  find  I  have  friends  in  heaven, 
And  some  I  might  scarce  liave  looked  for,  as  thou,  light-hearted  Mirth ; 
Thou,  also,  star-robed  Urania ;  and  thou,  with  the  curious  glass, 
That  rejoicedst  in  tracking  wisdom  where  the  eye  was  too  dull  to  note  it ; 
And  art  thou  too  among  the  blessed,  mild,  much  injured  Poetry  ? 
Who  quickenest  with  light  and  beauty,  the  leaden  face  of  matter, 
Who  not  unheard,  though  silent,  fillest  earth's  gardens  with  music, 
And  not  unseen,  though  a  spirit,  dost  look  down  upon  us  from  the  stars,— 
That  hast  been  to  me  for  oil  and  for  wine,  to  cheer  and  uphold  my  soul, 
When  wearied,  battling  with  the  surge,  the  stunning  surge  of  life ; 
Of  thee,  for  well  have  I  loved  thee,  of  thee  may  I  ask  in  hope, 
Who  among  the  glorious  is  she,  that  walketh  a  Goddess  and  a  Queen  ? 
And  who  that  fair-haired  herald,  and  who  that  weeping  saint  ? 
And  who  that  mighty  warrior,  and  who  that  solemn  sage  ? 

Son,  h  appy  art  thou  that  Wisdom-  hath  led  thee  hitherward ; 


68  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

For,  otherwise  never  hadst  thou  known  the  joy-giving  name  of  our  Queen. 
Behold  her,  the  life  of  men,  the  anchor  of  their  shipwrecked  hopes : 
Behold  her,  the  shepherdess  of  souls,  who  bringeth  back  the  wanderers  to 

God. 

And  for  that  modest  herald,  she  is  named  on  earth,  Humility: 
And  hast  thou  not  known,  .  v  son,  the  tearful  face  of  Repentance  ? 
Faith  is  yon  time-scarred  ht       walking  in  the  shade  of  his  laurels  ; 
And  Reason,  the  serious  sa^  -     'ho  followeth  the  footsteps  of  Faith : 
And  we,  all  we,  are  but  hano  <*  Is,  ministers  of  minor  bliss, 
Who  rejoice  to  be  counted  se.        ts  in  the  train  of  a  Queen  so  glorious, 
But  for  her  name,  son  of  man,       s  strange  to  the  language  of  heaven, 
For  those  who  have  never  fallen  need  not  and  may  not  learn  it : 
Liegeance  we  sware  to  our  God,  and  liegeance  well  have  we  kept ; 
It  is  only  the  band  of  the  redeemed  who  can  tell  thee  the  fullness  of  that 

name;  (") 
Yet  will  I  comfort  thee,  my  son,  for  the  love  wherewith  thou  hast  loved 

me, 
And  thou  shalt  touch  for  thyself  the  golden  sceptre  of  Religion. 

So  that  blessed  train  passed  by  me  ;  but  the  vision  was  sealed  upon  my 

soul ; 
And  its  memory  is  shrined  in  fragrance,  for  the  promise  of  the  Spirit  was 

true : 

I  learn  from  the  silent  poem  of  all  creation  round  me, 
How  beautiful  their  feet,  who  follow  in  that  train. 


OF    A    TRINITY.  (l9) 

DESPISE  not,  shrewd  reckoner,  the  God  of  a  good  man's  worship, 
Neither  let  thy  calculating  folly  gainsay  the  unity  of  three  ; 
Nor  scorn  another's  creed,  although  he  cannot  solve  thy  doubts  ; 
Reason  is  the  follower  of  faith,  where  he  may  not  be  precursor  : 
It  is  written,  and  so  we  believe,  waiting  not  for  outward  proof, 
Inasmuch  as  mysteries  inscrutable  tire  the  clear  prerogatives  of  Godhead, 
Reason  hath  nothing  positive,  faith  hath  nothing  doubtful  j 
And  the  height  of  unbelieving  'wisdom  is  to  question  all  things. 


OF  A  TRINITY.  80 

When  there  is  marvel  in  a  doctrine,  faith  is  joyful  and  adoreth ; 
But  when  all  is  clear,  what  place  is  left  for  faith  ? 
Tell  me  the  sum  of  thy  knowledge, — is  it  yet  assured  of  any  tiling  ? 
Despise  not  what  is  wonderful,  when  ah1  things  are  wonderful  around  thee. 
From  the  multitude  of  like  effects,  thou  sayest,  behold  a  law : 
And  the  matter  thou  art  baffled  in  unmaking,  is  to  thy  mind  an  element. 
Then  look  abroad,  I  pray  thee,  for  analogy  holdeth  every  where, 
And  the  Maker  hath  stamped  his  name  oa  every  creature  of  his  hand : 
I  know  not  of  a  matter  or  a  spirit,  that  is  not  three  in  one, 
And  truly  should  account  it  for  a  marvel,  a  coin  without  the  image  of  its 
Caesar. 

Man  talketh  of  himself  as  ignorant,  but  judgeth  by  himself  as  wise  : 

His  own  guess  counteth  he  truth,  but  the  notions  of  another  are  his  scorn. 

But  bear  thou  yet  with  a  brother,  whose  thought  may  be  less  subtle  than 

thine  own, 

And  suffer  the  passing  speculation  suggested  by  analogies  to  faith. 
Like  begetteth  like,  and  the  great  sea  of  Existence 
In  each  of  its  uncounted  wares  holdeth  up  a  mirror  to  its  Maker : 
Like  begetteth  like,  and  the  spreading  tree  of  being 
With  each  of  its  trefoil  leaves  pointeth  at  the  trinity  of  God. 
Let  him  whose  eyes  have  been  unfilmed,  read  this  homily  in  all  things, 
And  thou,  of  duller  sight,  despise  not  him  that  readeth  : 
There  be  three  grand  principles ;  life,  generation,  and  obedience  ; 
Shadowing  in  every  creature,  the  Spirit,  and  the  Father,  and  the  Son. 
There  be  three  grand  unities,  variously  mixed  in  trinities, 
Three  catholic  divisors  of  the  million  sums  of  matter  : 
Yea,  though  science  hath  not  seen  it,  climbing  the  ladder  of  experiment, 
Let  faith,  in  the  presence  of  her  God,  promulgate  the  mjglriy  truth. 
Of  three  sole  elements  all  nature's  works  consist : 

The  pine,  and  the  rock  to  which  it  clingeth,  and  the  eagle  sailing  around  it; 
The  lion,  and  the  northern  whale,  and  the  deeps  wherein  he  sporteth ; 
The  lizard  sleeping  in  the  sun  ;  the  lightning  flashing  from  a  cloud ; 
The  rose,  and  the  ruby,  and  the  pearl ;  each  one  is  made  of  three ; 
And  the  three  be  the  like  ingredients,  mingled  in  diverse  measures. 
Thyself  hast  within  thyself  body,  and  life,  and  mind  : 
Matter,  and  breath,  and  instinct,  unite  in  all  beaSv   of  the  field ; 
Substance,  coherence  and  weight,  fashion  the  fabrics  of  the  earth ; 
The  *yill,  the  doing,  and  the  deed,  combine  to  frame  a  fact; 


70  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  stem,  the  leaf,  and  the  flower ;  beginning,  middle,  and  end; 
Cause,  circumstance,  consequent ;  and  every  three  is  one. 
Yea,  the  very  breath  of  man's  life  consisteth  of  a  trinity  of  vapours, 
And  the  noonday  light  is  a  compound,  the  triune  shadow  of  Jehovah.  (*  ) 

Shall  all  things  else  be  in  mystery,  and  God  alone  be  understood  ? 
Shall  finite  fathom  infinity,  though  it  sound  not  the  shallows  of  creation* 
Shall  a  man  comprehend  his  Maker,  being  yet  a  riddle  to  himself? 
Or  time  teach  the  lesson  that  eternity  cannot  master  ? 
If  God  be  nothing  more  than  one,  a  child  can  compass  the  thought ; 
But  seraphs  fail  to  unravel  the  wondrous  unity  of  three. 
One  verily  He  is,  for  there  can  be  but  one  who  is  all-mighty ; 
Yet  the  oracles  of  nature  and  religion  proclaim  Him  three  in  one. 
And  where  were  the  value  to  thy  soul,  O  miserable  denizen  of  earth, 
Of  the  idle  pageant  of  the  cross,  where  hung  no  sacrifice  for  thee  ? 
Where  the  worth  to  thine  impotent  heart,  of  that  stirred  Bethesda, 
All  numbed  and  palsied  as  it  is  by  the  scorpion  stings  of  sin  ? 
No,  thy  trinity  of  nature,  enchained  by  treble  death, 
Helplessly  craveth  of  its  God,  himself  for  three  salvations : 
The  soul  to  be  reconciled  in  love,  the  mind  to  be  glorified  in  light, 
While  this  poor  dying  body  leapeth  into  life. 
And  if  indeed  for  us  all  the  costly  ransom  hath  been  paid, 
Bethink  thee,  could  less  than  Deity  have  owned  so  vast  a  treasure  ? 
Could  a  man  contend  with  God,  and  stand  against  the  bosses  of  His  buckler, 
Rendering  the  balance  for  guilt,  atonement  to  the  uttermost  ? 
Phou  art  subtle  to  thine  own  thinking,  but  wisdom  judgeth  thee  a  fool, 
Resolving  thou  wilt  not  bow  the  knee  to  a  Being  thou  canst  not  compre- 
hend : 

The  mind  that  could  compass  perfection  were  itself  perfection's  equal ; 
And  reason  refuseth  its  homage  to  a  God  who  can  be  fully  understood. 

Thou  that  despisest  mystery,  yet  canst  expound  nothing, 

Wherefore  rejectest  thou  the  fact  that  solveth  the  enigma  of  all  things  ? 

Wherefore  veilest  thou  thine  eyes,  lest  the  light  of  revelation  sun  them, 

And  puttest  aside  the  key  that  would  open  the  casket  of  truth  ? 

The  mind  and  the  nature  of  God  is  shadowed  in  all  his  works, 

And  none  could  have  guessed  of  his  essence,  had  He  not  uttered  it  himself. 

Therefore,  thou  child  of  folly,  that  scornest  the  record  of  his  wisdom, 

Learn  from  the  consistencies  of  nature  the  needful  miracle  of  Godhead  • 


'JF  THINKING.  n 

Yea,  let  the  heathen  be  thy  teacher,  who  adoreth  many  gods, 

For  there  is  no  wide-spread  error  that  hath  not  truth  for  its  beginning. 

Be  content ;  thine  eye  cannot  see  all  the  sides  of  a  cube  at  one  view, 

Nor  thy  mind  in  the  self-same  moment  follow  two  ideas  : 

There  are  now  many  marvels  in  thy  creed,  believing  what  thou  seest, 

Then  let  not  the  conceit  of  intellect  hinder  tliee  from  worsliipping  mysterj 


OF    THINKING. 

REF&ECTIOS  is  a  flower  of  the  mind,  giving  out  wholesome  fragrance, 

But  reverie  is  the  same  flower,  when  -rank  and  running  to  seed. 

Better  to  read  little  with  thought,  than  much  with  levity  and  quickness 

For  mind  is  not  as  merchandise,  which  decreaseth  in  the  using, 

But  liker  to  the  passions  of  man>  which  rejoice  and  expand  in  exertion : 

Yet  live  not  wholly  on  thine  own  ideas,  lest  they  lead  thee  astray ; 

For  in  spirit,  as  in  substance,  thou  art  a  social  creature ; 

And  if  thou  leanest  on  thyself,  thou  rejectest  the  guidance  of  thy  betters. 

Yea,  thou  contemnest  all  men, — Am  I  not  wiser  than  they  ? 

Foolish  vanity  hath  blinded  thee,  and  warped  thy  weak  judgment ; 

For,  though  new  ideas  flow  rrom  new  springs,  and  enrich  the  treasury  of 

knowledge, 
Yet  listen  often,  ere  thou  think  much ;  and  look  around  thee  ere  thou 

judgest. 

Memory,  the  daugter  of  Attention,  is  the  teeming  mother  of  Wisdom, 
And  safer  is  he  that  storeth  knowledge,  than  he  that  would  make  it  for 

himself. 

Imagination  is  not  thought,  neither  is  fancy  reflection  : 

Thought  paceth  like  a  hoary  sage,  but  imagination  hath  wings  as  an  eag!e : 

lleflection  sternly  considereth,  nor  is  sparing  to  condemn  evil, 

But  fancy  lightly  laugheth,  in  the  sun-clad  garden  of  amusement. 

For  the  shy  game  of  the  fowler  the  quickest  shot  is  the  surest; 

But  with  slow  care  and  measured  aim  the  gunner  pointeth  his  cannon : 

So  for  all  less  occasions,  the  surface  thought  is  best, 

But  to  be  master  of  the  great  take  thou  heavier  metal. 

It  is  a  good  thing,  and  a  wholesome,  to  search  out  bosom  sins, 


72  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY*. 

Bat  to  be  the  hero  of  selfish  imaginings,  is  the  subtle  poison  of  pride: 

At  night,  in  the  stillness  of  thy  chamber,  guard  and  curb  thy  thoughts, 

And  io  recounting  the  doings  of  tho  day,  beware  that  thou  do  it  with  prayer, 

Or  thinking  will  be  an  idle  pleasure,  and  retrospect  yield  no  fruit. 

Steer  the  bark  of.  thy  mind  from  the  syren  isle  of  reverie, 

And  let  a  watchful  spirit  mingle  with  the  glance  of  recollection : 

Also,  in  examining  thine  heart,  in  sounding  the  fountain  of  thine  actions, 

Be  more  careful  of  the  evil  than  of  the  good  ;  and  humble  thyself  in  thy  sin. 

The  root  of  all  wholesome  thought  is  knowledge  of  thyself, 

For  thus  only  canst  thou  leam  the  character  of  God  toward  thee. 

He  made  thee,  and  thou  art ;  he  redeemed  thee,  and  thou  wilt  be : 

Thou  art  evil,  yet  he  loveth  thee  :  thou  sinnest,  yet  he  pardoneth  thee. 

Though  thou  canst  not  perceive  him,  yet  is  he  in  all  his  works, 

Infinite  in  grand  outline,  infinite  in  mimite  perfection ; 

Nature  is  the  chart  of  God,  mapping  out  all  his  attributes; 

Art  is  the  shadow  of  his  wisdom,  and  copieth  his  resources. 

Thou  knowest  the  laws  of  matter  to  be  emanations  of  his  will, 

And  thy  best  reason  for  aught  is  this, — thou,  Lord,  would  have  it  so. 

Yea,  what  is  any  law  but  an  absolute  decree  of  God  ? 

Or  the  properties  of  matter  and  mind,  but  the  arbitrary  fiats  of  Jehovah  f 

He  made  and  ordained  necessity ;  he  forged  the  chain  of  reason  ; 

And  holdeth  in  his  own  right  hand  the  first  of  the  golden  links. 

A  fool  regardeth  mind  as  the  spiritual  essence  of  matter, 

And  not  rather  matter  as  the  gross  accident  of  mind, 

Can  finite  govern  infinite,  or  a  part  exceed  the  whole, 

Or  the  wisdom  of  God  sit  down  at  the  feet  of  innate  necessity  ? 

Necessity  is  a  creature  of  his  hand :  for  He  can  never  change  ; 

And  chance  hath  no  existence  where  every  thing  is  needful. 

Canst  thou  measure  Omnipotence,  canst  thou  conceive  Ubiquity, 

Which  guideth  the  meanest  reptile,  and  quickeneth  the  brightest  seraph, 

Which  steereth  the  particles  of  dust,  and  commandeth  the  path  oi  the 

comet  ? 

To  Him  all  things  are  equal,  for  all  things  are  necessary. 
The  smith  is  weary  at  his  forge,  and  weldeth  the  metal  carelessly, 
And  the  anchor  breaketh  in  its  bed,  and  the  vessel  foundereth  with  hei 

crew: 
A  word  of  anger  is  muttered,  engendering  the  midnight  murder : 


OF  THINKING.  73 

The  son  bursteth  from  a  cloud,  and  maddenelh  the  toiling  husbandman. 

Shall  these  things  be,  and  God  not  know  it  ? 

Shall  he  know,  and  not  be  in  them  ?  shall  he  see,  and  not  be  among  them  t 

And  how  can  they  be  otherwise  than  as  he  knoweth  ? 

Truly,  the  Lord  is  in  all  things ;  verily,  he  worketh  in  all. 

Think  thus,  and  thy  thoughts  are  firm,  ascribing  each  circumstance  to 

Him; 

Yet  know  surely,  and  believe  the  truth,  that  God  willeth  not  evil : 
Fer  adversities  are  blessings  in  disguise,  and  wickedness  the  Lord  ab- 

horreth : 

That  he  is  in  all  things  is  an  axiom,  and  that  he  is  righteous  in  all ; 
Ascribe  holiness  to  Him,  while  thou  musest  on  the  mystery  of  sin, 
For  infinite  can  grasp  that  which  finite  cannot  cempass. 

In  works  of  art,  think  justly :  what  praise  canst  thou  render  unto  man  ? 
For  he  made  not  his  own  mind,  nor  is  he  the  scource  of  contrivance. 
If  a  cunning  workman  maketh  an  engine  that  fashioneth  curious  works, 
Which  hath  the  praise,  the  machine  or  its  maker,— the  engine,  or  he  that 

framed  it  ? 

And  could  he  frame  it  so  subtly  as  to  give  it  a  will  and  freedom, 
Endow  it  with  complicated  powers,  and  a  glorious  living  soul, 
Who,  while  he  admireth  the  wondrous  understanding  creature, 
Will  not  pay  deeper  homage  to  the  Maker  of  master  minds  ? 
Otherwise,  thou  art  senseless  as  the  pagan,  that  adoreth  his  own  handi- 
work; 
Yea,  while  thou  boastest  of  thy  wisdom,  thy  mind  is  as  the  mind  of  the 


For  he  boweth  down  to  his  idols,  and  thou  art  a  worshipper  of  self, 
Giving  to  the  reasoning  machine  the  credit  due  to  its  Creator. 

The  keystone  of  thy  mind,  to  give  thy  thoughts  solidity, 
To  bind  them  as  in  an  arch,  to  fix  them  as  a  world  in  its  sphere, 
Is  to  learn  from  the  book  of  the  Lord,  to  drink  from  the  well  of  his  wisdom. 
Who  can  condense  the  sun,  or  analyze  the  fullness  of  the  Bible, 
So  that  its  ideas  be  gathered,  and  the  harvest  of  its  wisdom  be  brought  in  V 
That  book  is  easy  to  the  man  who  setteth  his  heart  to  understand  it, 
But  to  the  careless  and  profane  it  shall  seem  the  foolishness  of  God ;  . 
And  it  is  a  delicate  test  to  prove  thy  moral  state  ; 

To  the  humble  disciple  it  is  bread,  but  a  stone  to  the  proud  and  uo« 
believing : 


74  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  scorner  shall  find  nothing  but  the  husks,  wherewith  to  feed  Ms  hunger 

But  for  the  soul  of  the  simple,  it  is  plenty  of  full-ripe  wheat. 

The  Scripture  abideth  the  same  in  the  sober  majesty  of  truth ; 

And  the  differing  aspects  of  its  teaching  proceed  from  diversity  in  mind* 

He  that  would  learn  to  think  may  gain  that  knowledge  there ; 

For  the  living  word,  as  an  angel,  standeth  at  the  gate  of  wisdom, 

And  publisheth,  This  is  the  way,  walk  ye  surely  in  it. 

Religion  taketh  by  the  hand  the  humble  pupil  of  repentance, 

And  teacheth  him  lessons  of  mystery,  solving  the  questions  of  doubt j 

She  maketh  man  worthy  of  himself,  of  his  high  prerogative  of  reason, 

Threadeth  all  the  labyrinths  of  thought,  and  leadeth  him  to  his  God. 

Come  hither,  child  of  meditation,  upon  whose  high  fair  forehead 

Glittereth  the  star  of  mind  in  its  unearthly  lustre, 

Hast  thou  nought  to  tell  us  of  thine  airy  joys,->- 

When  borne  on  sinewy  pinions,  strong  as  the  western  condor, 

The  soul,  after  soaring  for  a  while  round  the  cloud-capped  Andes  o* 

reflection, 

Glad  in  its  conscious  immortality,  leaveth  a  world  behind, 
To  dare  at  one  bold  flight  the  broad  Atlantic  to  another  ? 
Hast  thou  no  secret  pangs  to  whisper  common  men, 
No  dread  of  thine  own  energies,  still  active,  day  and  night, 
Lest  too  ecstatic  heat  sublime  thyself  away, 
Or  vivid  horrors,  sharp  and  clear,  madden  thy  tense  fibres  ? 
In  half-shaped  visions  of  sleep  hast  thou  not  feared  thy  Sittings, 
Lest  reason,  like  a  raking  hawk,  return  not  to  thy  call ; 
Nor  waked  to  work-day  life  with  throbbing  head  and  heart, 
Nor  welcomed  early  dawn  to  save  thee  from  unrest  ? 
For  the  wearied  spirit  lieth  as  a  fainting  maiden, 
Captive  and  borne  away  on  the  warrior's  foam-covered  steed, 
And  sinketh  down  wounded  as  a  gladiator  on  the  sand, 
While  the  keen  falchion  of  Intellect  is  cutting  through  the  scabbard  of  the 

brain.  i 

Imagination,  like  a  shadowy  giant  looming  on  the  twilight  of  the  Hartz,    ! 
Shall  overwhelm  Judgment  with  affright,  and  scare  him  from  his  throne : 
In  a  dream  thou  mayst  be  mad,  and  feel  the  fire  within  thee ; 
In  a' dream  thou  mayst  travel  out  of  self,  and  see  thee  with  the  eyes  of 

another ; 
Or  sleep  in  thine  own  corpse ;  or  wake  as  in  many  bodies : 


IDF  SPEAKING.  75 

Or  swell,  as  expanded  to  infinity ;  or  shrink,  as  imprisoned  to  a  point ; 
Or  among  moss-grown  ruins  may  wander  with  the  sullen  disembodied, 
And  gaze  upon  their  glassy  eyes  until  thy  heart-blood  freeze. 

Alone  must  thou  stand,  O  man !  alone  at  the  bar  of  judgment ; 
Alone  must  thou  bear  thy  sentence,  alone  must  thou  answer  for  thy  deeds : 
Therefore  it  is  well  thou  retirest  often  to  secrecy  and  solitude, 
To  feel  that  thou  art  accountable  separately  from  thy  fellows : 
For  a  crowd  hideth  truth  from  the  eyes,  society  drowneth  thought, 
And,  being  but  one  among  many,  stifleth  the  eludings  of  conscience. 
Solitude  bringeth  woe  to  the  wicked,  for  his  crimes  are  told  out  in  his  ear ; 
But  addeth  peace  to  the  good,  for  the  mercies  of  his  God  are  numbered. 
Thou  mayst  know  if  it  be  well  with  a  man, — loveth  he  gayety  or  solitude  ? 
For  the  troubled  river  rusheth  to  the  sea,  but  the  calm  lake  slumbereth 

among  the  mountains. 
How  dear  to  the  mind  of  the  sage  are  the  thoughts  that  are  bred  in 

loneliness, 
For  there  is  as  it  were  music  at  his  heart,  and  he  talketh  within  him  as 

with  friends : 

But  guilt  maddeneth  the  brain,  and  terror  glareth  in  the  eye, 
Where,  in  his  solitary  cell,  the  malefactor  wrestleth  with  remorse. 
Give  me  but  a  lodge  in  the  wilderness,  drop  me  on  an  island  in  the  desert, 
And  thought  shall  yield  me  happiness,  though  I  may  not  increase  it  by 

imparting : 

For  the  soul  never  slumbereth,  but  is  as  the  eye  of  the  Eternal, 
And,  mind,  the  breath  of  God,  knoweth  not  ideal  vacuity : 
At  night,  after  weariness  and  watching,  the  body  sinketh  into  sleep, 
But  the  mental  eye  is  awake,  and  thou  reasonest  in  thy  dreams  : 
In  a  dream  thou  mayst  live  a  lifetime,  and  all  be  forgotten  in  the  morning : 
Even  such  is  life,  and  so  soon  perisheth  its  memory. 


OF    SPEAKING. 

SPEECH  is  the  golden  harvest  that  followeth  the  flowering  of  thought ; 
Yet  oftentimes  runneth  it  to  husk,  and  the  grains  be  withered  and  scanty. 
Speech  is  reason's  brother  and  a  kingly  prerogative  of  man, 


76  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

That  likeneth  him  to  his  Maker,  who  spake,  and  it  was  done: 

Spirit  may  mingle  with  spirit,  but  sense  requireth  a  symbol ; 

And  speech  is  the  body  of  a  thought,  without  which  it  were  not  seen. 

When  thou  walkest,  musing  with  thyself,  in  the  green  aisles  of  the  fores^ 

Utter  thy  thinkings  aloud,  that  they  take  a  shape  and  being ; 

For  he  that  pondereth  in  silence  crowdeth  the  storehouse  of  his  mind, 

And  though  he  have  heaped  great  riches,  yet  is  he  hindered  in  the  using. 

A  man  that  speaketh  too  little,  and  thinketh  much  and  deeply, 

Corrodeth  his  own  heart-strings,  and  keepeth  back  good  from  his  fellows '? 

A  man  that  speaketh  too  much,  and  museth  but  little  and  lightly, 

Wasteth  his  mind  in  words,  and  is  counted  a  fool  among  men : 

But  thou,  when  thou  hast  thought,  weave  charily  the  web  of  meditation, 

And  clothe  the  ideal  spirit  in  the  suitable  garments  of  speech. 

Uttered  out  of  time,  or  concealed  in  its  season,  good  savoureth  df  evil ; 

To  be  secret  looketh  like  guilt,  to  speak  out  may  breed  contention ; 

Often  have  I  known  the  honest  heart,  flaming  with  indignant  virtue, 

Provoke  unneeded  war  by  its  rash  ambassador,  the  tongue : 

Often  have  I  seen  the  charitable  man  go  so  slyly  on  his  mission, 

That  those  who  met  him  in  the  twilight,  took  him  for  a  skulking  thief: 

I  have  heard  the  zealous  youth  telling  out  his  holy  secrets 

Before  a  swinish  throng,  who  mocked  him  as  he  spake  ; 

And  I  considered,  his  openness  was  hardening  them  that  mocked, 

Whereas,  a  judicious  keeping-back  might  have  won  their  sympathy  ; 

I  have  judged  rashly  and  harshly  the  hand  liberal  in  the  dark, 

Because  in  the  broad  daylight  it  hath  holden  it  a  virtue  to  be  close  ; 

And  the  silent  tongue  have  I  condemned,  because  reserve  hath  chained  it, 

That  it  hid,  yea  from  a  brother,  the  kindness  it  had  done  by  comforting. 

No  need  to  sound  a  trumpet,  but  less  to  hush  a  footfall : 

Do  thou  thy  good  openly,  not  as  though  the  doing  were  a  crime. 

Secrecy  goeth  cowled,  and  Honesty  demandeth,  Wherefore  ? 

For  he  judgeth, — judgeth  he  not  well  1 — that  nothing  need  be  hid  but 

guilt ; 

Why  should  thy  good  be  evil  spoken  of  through  thine  unrighteous  silence? 
If  thou  art  challenged,  speak,  and  prove  the  good  thou  doest. 
The  free  example  of  benevolence,  unobtruded,  yet  unbidden, 
Soundeth  in  the  ears  of  sloth,  Go,  and  do  thou  likewise : 
And  I  wot  the  hypocrite's  sin  to  be  of  darker  dye, 
Because  the  good  man,  fearing,  thereby  hideth  his  light : 


OF  SPEAKING.  77 

But  neither  God  nor  man  hath  bid  thee  cloak  thy  good, 

When  a  seasonable  word  would  set  thee  in  thy  sphere,  that  all  might  see 

thy  brightness. 

Ascribe  the  honour  to  thy  Lord,  but  be  thou  jealous  of  that  honour, 
Nor  think  il  light  and  worthless,  because  thou  mayst  not  wear  it  for 

thyself: 

Remember  thy  grand  prerogative  is  free  unshackled  utterance, 
And  suffer  not  the  floodgates  of  secrecy  to  lock  the  full  river  of  thy 

speech. 

Come,  I  will  show  thee  an  affliction,  unnumbered  among' this  world's 

sorrows,    . 

Yet  real,  and  wearisome,  and  constant,  embittering  the  cup  of  life. 
There  be,  who  can  think  within  themselves,  and  the  fire  burneth  at  their 

heart, 

And  eloquence  waiteth  at  their  lips,  yet  they  speak  not  with  their  tongue : 
There  be,  whom  zeal  quickeneth,  or  slander  stirreth  to  reply, 
Or  need  constraineth  to  ask,  or  pity  sendeth  as  her  messengers, 
But  nervous  dread  and  sensitive  shame  freeze  the  current  of  their  speech : 
The  mouth  is  sealed  as  with  lead,  a  cold  weight  presseth  on  the  heart, 
The  mocking  promise  of  power  is  once  more  broken  in  performance, 
And  they  stand  impotent  of  words,  travailing  with  unborn  thoughts  : 
Courage  is  cowed  at  the  portal :  wisdom  is  widowed  of  utterance  ; 
He  that  went  to  comfort  is  pitied ;  he  that  should  rebuke,  is  silent. 
And  fools  who  might  listen  and  learn,  stand  by  to  look  and  laugh ; 
While  friends,  with  kinder  eyes,  wound  deeper  by  compassion, 
And  thought,  finding  not  a  vent,  smouldereth,  gnawing  at  the  heart, 
And  the  man  sinketh  in  his  sphere,  for  lack  of  empty  sounds. 
There  be  many  cares  and  sorrows  thou  hast  not  yet  considered, 
And  well  may  thy  soul  rejoice  in  the  fair  privilege  of  speech ; 
For  at  every  turn  to  want  a  word, — thou  canst  not  guess  that  want , 
It  is  as  lack  of  breath  or  bread :  life  hath  no  grief  more  galling. 

Come,  I  will  tell  thee  of  a  joy,  which  the  parasites  of  pleasure  have  not 

known, 

Though  earth,  and  air,  and  sea,  have  gorged  all  the  appetites  of  sense. 
Behold,  what  fire  is  in  his  eye,  what  fervour  on  his  cheek ! 
That  glorious  burst  of  winged  words  ! — how  bound  they  from  his  tongne ! 
The  full  expression  of  the  mighty  thought,  the  strong  triumphant  argu 

ment,. 


78  >  ROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  rush  of  native  eloquence,  resistless  as  Niagara, 

The  keen  demand,  the  clear  reply,  the  fine  poetic  image, 

The  nice  analogy,  the  clenching  fact,  the  metaphor  bold  and  free, 

The  grasp  of  concentrated  intellect,  wielding  the  omnipotence  of  truth, 

The  grandeur  of  his  speech,  in  his  majesty  of  mind  ! 

Champion  of  the  right, — patriot,  or  priest,  or  pleader  of  the  innocent 

cause, 

Upon  whose  lips  the  mystic  bee  hath  droped  the  honey  of  persuasion,  (*'} 
Whose  heart  and  tongue  have  been  touched,  as  of  old,  by  the  live  coal 

from  the  altar, 
How  wide  the  spreading  of  thy  peace,  how  deep  the  draught  of  thy 

pleasures ! 

To  hold  the  .multitude  as  one,  breathing  in  measured  cadence, 
A  thousand  men  with  flashing  eyes,  waiting  upon  thy  will ; 
A  thousand  hearts  kindled  by  thee  with  consecrated  fire, 
Ten  flaming  spiritual  hecatombs  offered  on  the  mount  of  God  : 
And  now  a  pause,  a  thrilling  pause, — they  live  but  in  thy  words,— 
Thou  hast  broken  the  bounds  of  self,  as  the  .Nile  at  its  rising, 
Thou  art  expanded  into  them,  one  faith,  one  hope,  one  spirit, 
They  breathe  but  in  thy  breath,  their  minds  are  passive  unto  thine, 
Thou  turnest  the  key  of  their  love,  bending  their  affections  to  thy  purpose, 
And  all,  in  sympathy  with*  thee,  tremble  with  tumultuous  emotions. 
Verily,  O  man,  with  truth  for  thy  theme,  eloquence  shall  throne  thee  with 

archangels. 


OF    READING. 

ONE  drachma  for  a  good 'book,  and  a  thousand  talents  for  a  true  friend  : — 

So  standeth  the  market  where  scarce  is  ever  costly  : 

Yea,  were  the  diamonds  of  Golconda  common  as  shingles  on  the  shore, 

A  ripe  apple  would  ransom  kings  before  a  shining  stone  : 

And  so,  were  a  wholesome  book  as  rare  as  an  honest  friend, 

To  choose  the  book  be  mine  :  the  friend  let  another  take. 

For  altered  looks  and  jealousies  and  fears  have  none  entrance  there : 

The  silent  volume  listeneth  well,  and  speakedi  when  thou  hstest : 


OF  READING.  79 

t  praiseth  thy  good  without  envy,  it  chideth  thine  evil  without  malice, 
t  is  to  thee  thy  waiting  slave,  and  thine  unbending  teacher. 

Need  to  humour  no  caprice,  need  to  bear  with  no  infirmity ; 

Thy  sin,  thy  slander,  or  neglect,  chilleth  not,  quencheth  not,  its  love ; 

Unalterably  speaketh  it  the  truth,  warped  not  by  error  nor  interest ; 

For  a  good  book  is  the  best  of  friends,  the  same  to-day  and  for  ever. 

To  draw  thee  out  of  self,  thy  petty  plans  and  cautions, 

To  teach  thee  what  thou  lackest,  to  tell  thee  how  largely  thou  art  blest, 
'  To  lure  thy  thought  from  sorrow,  to  feed  thy  famished  mind, 

To  graft  another's  wisdom  on  thee,  pruning  thine  own  folly  ; 

Choose  discreetly,  and  well  digest  the  volume  most  suited  to  thy  case, 

Touching  not  religion  with  levity,  nor  deep  things  when  thou  art  wearied. 

Thy  mind  is  freshened   by  morning  air,  grapple  with  science  and   phi- 
losophy ; 

Noon  hath  unnerved  thy  thoughts,  dream  for  a  while  on  fictions  ; 

Gray  evening  sobereth  thy  spirit,  walk  thou  then  with  worshippers  ; 

But  reason  shall  dig  deepest  in  the  night,  and  fancy  fly  most  free. 

O  books,  ye  monuments  of  mind,  concrete  wisdom  of  the  wisest ; 

Sweet  solaces  of  daily  life  ;  proofs  and  results  of  immortality ; 

Trees  yielding  all  fruits,  whose  leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  the   nations. 

Groves  of  knowledge,"  where  all  may  eat,  nor  fear  a  flaming  sword ; 

Gentle  comrades,  kind  advisers  ;  friends,  comforts,  treasures  ; 

Helps,  governments,  diversities  of  tongues  ;  who  can  weigh  your  worth  ? — • 

To  walk  no  longer  with  the  just ;  to  be  driven  from  the  porch  of  science  • 

To  bid  long  adieu  to  those  intimate  ones,  poets,  philosophers,  and  teachers ; 

To  see  no  record  of  the  sympathies  which  bind  thee  in  communion  with 
the  good ; 

To  be  thrust  from  the  feet  of  Him,  who  spake  as  never  man  spake ; 

To  have  no  avenue  to  heaven  but  the  dim  aisle  of  superstition  ; 

To  live  as  an  Esquimaux,  in  lethargy ;   to  die  as  the  Mohawk,  in  igno- 
ance : 

O  what  were  life,  but  a  blank  ?  what  were  death,  but  a  terror  ? 

What  were  man,  but  a  burden  to  himself  ?  what  were  mind,  but  misery  ? 

Yea,  let  another  Omar  burn  the  full  library  of  knowledge,  (**) 

And  the  broad  world  may  perish  in  the  flames,  offered  on  the  ashes  of  its 
wisdom ! 


80  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


OF    WRITING. 

THE  pen  of  a  ready  writer,  whereunto  shall  it  be  likened  ? 

Ask  of  the  scholar,  he  shall  know, — to  the  chains  that  bind  a  Proteus  : 

Ask  of  the  poet,  he  shall  say, — to  the  sun,  the  lamp  of  heaven ; 

Ask  of  thy  neighbour,  he  can  answer,  to  the  friend  that  telleth  my  thought : 

The  merchant  considereth  it  well,  as  a  ship  freighted  with  wares ; 

The  divine  holdeth  it  a  miracle,  giving  utterance  to  the  dumb. 

It  fixeth,  expoundeth,  and  disseminateth  sentiment ; 

Chaining  up  a  thought,  clearing  it  of  mystery,  and  sending  it  bright  into 

the  world. 

To  think  rightly,  is  of  knowledge  ;  to  speak  fluently,  is  of  nature  ; 
To  read  with  profit,  is  of  care  ;  but  to  write  aptly,  is  of  practice. 
No  talent  among  men  hath  more  scholars  and  fewer  masters : 
For  to  write  is  to  speak  beyond  hearing,  and  none  stand  by  to  explain. 
To  be  accurate,  write ;  to  remember,  write ;  to  know  thine  own  mind,  write  : 
And  a  written  prayer  is  a  prayer  of  faith  ;  special,  sure,  and  to  be  answered. 
Hast  thou  a  thought  upon  thy  brain,  catch  it  while  thou  canst ; 
Or  other  thoughts  shall  settle  there,  and  this  shall  soon  take  wing  : 
Thine  uncompounded  unity  of  soul,  which  argueth  and  maketh  it  immortal, 
Yieldeth  up  its  momentary  self  to  every  single  thought ; 
Therefore,  to  husband  thine  ideas,  and  give  them  stability  and  substance 
Write  often  for  thy  secret  eye  :  so  shalt  thou  grow  wiser. 
The  commonest  mind  is  full  of  thoughts  ;  some  worthy  of  the  rarest ; 
And  could  it  see  them  fairly  writ,  would  wonder  at  its  wealth. 
O  precious  compensation  to  the  dumb,  to  write  his  wants  and  wishes  ! 
O  dear  amends  to  the  stammering  tongue,  to  pen  his  burning  thoughts  ! 
To  be  of  the  college  of  Eloquence,  through  these  silent  symbols  ; 
To  pour  out  all  the  flowing  mind  without  the  toil  of  speech ; 
To  show  the  babbling  world  how  it  might  discourse  more  sweetly ; 
To  prove  that  merchandise  of  words  bringeth  no  monopoly  of  wisdom  ; 
To  take  sweet  vengeance  on  a  prating  crew,  for  the  tongue's  dishonour, 
By  the  large  triumph  of  the  pen,  the  homage  rendered  to  a  writing. 
With  such,  that  telegraph  of  mind  is  dearer  than  wealth  or  wisdom, 
Enabling  to  please  without  pain,  to  impart  without  humiliation. 

Fair  girl,  whose  eye  hath  caught  the  rustic  penmanship  of  love, 


OF  WRITING.  81 

Let  thy  bright  bow  and  blushing  cheek  confess  in  this  sweet  hour, — 
Letlhy  full  heart,  poor  guilty  one,  whom  the  scroll  of  pardon  hath  just 

reached, — 

Thy  wet  glad  face,  O  mother,  with  news  of  a  far-off  child, — 
Thy  strong  and,manly  delight,  pilgrim  of  other  shores, 
When  the  dear  voice  of  thy  betrothed  speaketh  in  the  letter  of  affection.— 
Let  the  young  poet  exulting  in  his  lay,  and  hope  (how  false)  of  fame, 
While,  watching  at  deep  midnight,  he  bnildeth  up  the  verse, — 
Let  the  calm  child  of  genius,  whose  name  shall  never  die, 
For  that  the  transcript  of  his  mind  hath  made  his  thoughts  immortal. — 
Let  these,  let  all,  with  no  faint  praise,  with  no  light  gratitude,  confess 
The  blessings  poured  upon  the  earth  from  the  pen  of  a  ready  writer. 

Moreover,  their  preciousness  in  absence  is  proved  by  the  desire  of  their 

presence : 

When  the  despairing  lover  waiteth  day  after  day, 
Looking  for  a  word  in  reply,  one  word  writ  by  that  hand, 
And  cursing  bitterly  the  morn  ushered  in  by  blank  disappointment : 
Or  when  the  long-looked-for  answer  argueth  a  cooling  friend, 
And  me  mind  is  plied  suspiciously  with  dark  inexplicable  doubts, 
While  thy  wounded  heart  counteth  its  imaginary  scars, 
And  thou  art  the  innocent  and  injured,  that  friend  the  capricious  and  in 

fault : 

Or  when  the  earnest  petition,  that  craveth  for  thy  needs 
Unheeded,  yea,  unopened,  tortureth  with  starving  delay  : 
Or  when  the  silence  of  a  son,  who  would  have  written  of  his  welfare, 
Racketh  a  father's  bosom  with  sharp-cutting  fears : 
For  a  letter,  timely  writ,  is  a  rivet  to  the  chain  of  affection. 
And  a  letter  untimely  delayed,  is  as  rust  to  the  solder. 
The  pen,  flowing  with  love,  or  dipped  black  in  hate, 
Or  tipped  with  delicate  courtesies,  or  harshly  edged  with  censure, 
Hath  quickened  more  good  than  the  sun,  more  evil  than  the  sword, 
More  joy  than  woman's  smile,  more  woe  tlian  frowning  fortune ; 
And  shouldst  thou  ask  my  judgment  of  that  which  hath  most  profit  in  tha 

world, 
For  answer  take  thou  this,  The  prudent  penning  of  a  letter. 

Thou  hast  not  lost  an  hour,  whereof  there  is  a  record  ; 
A  written  thought  at  midnight  shall  redeem  the  livelong  day. 

4* 


82  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Idea  is  a  shadow  that  departeth,  speech  is  fleeting  as  the  wind, 

Reading  is  an  unremembered  pastime ;  but  a  writing  is  eternal : 

For  therein  the  dead  heart  liveth,  the  clay-cold  tongue  is  eloquent, 

And  the  quick  eye  of  the  reader  is  cleared  by  the  reed  of  the  scribe. 

As  a  fossil  in  the  rock,  or  a  coin  in  the  mortar  of  a  ruin,  * 

So  the  symbolled  thoughts  tell  of  a  departed  soul : 

The  plastic  hand  hath  its  witness  in  a  statue,  and  exactitude  of  vision  in  a 

picture, 
And  so,  the  mind,  that  was  among  us,  in  its  writings  is  embalmed. 


OF   WEALTH. 

PRODIGALITY  hath  a  sister  Meanness,  his  fixed  antagonist  heart-fellow, 
Who  often  outliveth  the  short  career  of  the  brother  she  despiseth : 
She  hath  lean  lips  and  a  sharp  look,  and  her  eyes  are  red  and  hungry ; 
But  she  sloucheth  at  his  gait,  and  his  mouth  speaketh  loosely  and  maudlin. 
Let  a  spendthrift  grow  to  be  old,  he  will  set  his  heart  on  saving, 
And  labour  to  build  up  by  penury  that  which  extravagance  threw  down : 
Even  so,  with  most  men,  do  riches  earn  themselves  a  double  curse ; 
They  are  ill-got  by  tight  dealing :  they  are  ill-spent  by  loose  squandering. 
Give  me  enough,  saith  Wisdom ; — for  he  feareth  to  ask  for  more ; 
And  that  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  addeth  stout-hearted  Independence ; 
Give  me  enough,  and  not  less,  for  want  is  leagued  with  the  tempter ; 
Poverty  shall  make  a  man  desperate,  and  hurry  him  ruthless  into  crime  ; 
Give  me  enough,  and  not  more,  saving  for  the  children  of  distress ; 
Wealth  ofttimes  killeth,  where  want  but  hindereth  the  budding  : 
There  is  green  glad  summer  near  the  pole,  though  brief  and  after  long 

winter, 

But  the  burnt  breasts  of  the  torrid  zone  yield  never  kindly  nourishment,  i 
Wouldst  thou  be  poor,  scatter  to  the  rich, — and  reap  the  tares  of  ingratitude ; 
Wouldst  thou  be  rich,  give  unto  the  poor ; — thou  shalt  have  thine  own 

with  usury : 

For  the  secret  hand  of  Providence  prospereth  the  charitable  all  ways, 
Good  luck  shall  he  have  in  his  pursuits,  and  his  heart  shall  be  glad  within 

him; 


OP  WEALTH.  8* 

Yet  perchance  he  never  shall  perceive,  that  even  as  to  earthly  gains, 
The  cause  of  his  weal,  as  of  his  joy,  hath  been  small  givings  to  the  poor 

In  the  plain  of  Benares  is  there  found  a  root  that  fathereth  a  forest, 

Where  round  the  parent  banian-tree  drop  its  living  scions ; 

Thirstily  they  strain  to  the  earth,  like  stalactites  in  a  grotto, 

And  strike  broad  roots,  and  branch  again,  lengthening  their  cool  arcades 

And  the  dervish  madly  danceth  there,  and  the  faquir  is  torturing  his  flesh 

And  the  calm  Brahmin  worshippeth  the  sleek  and  pampered  bull ; 

At  the  base  lean  jackalls  coil,  while  from  above  depending 

With  dull  malignant  stare  watcheth  the  branch-like  boa. 

Even  so,  in  man's  heart  is  a  sin  that  is  the  root  of  all  evil ; 

Whose  fibres  strangle  the  affections,  whose  branches  overgrow  the  mino 

And  oftenest  beneath  its  shtdow  thou  shalt  meet  distorted  piety, — 

The  clenched  and  rigid  fist,  with  the  eyes  upturned  to  heaven, 

Fanatic  zeal  with  miserly  severity,  a  mixture  of  gain  with  godliness, 

And  him,  against  whom  passion  hath  no  power,  kneeling  to  a  golden  call 

The  hungry  hounds  of  extortion  are  there,  the  bond,  and  the  mortgage 

and  the  writ, 

While  the  appetite  for  gold,  unslumbering,  watcheth  to  glut  its  maw  : — 
And  the  heart,  so  tenanted  and  shaded,  is  cold  to  all  things  else ; 
It  seeth  not  the  sunshine  of  heaven,  nor  is  warmed  by  the  light  of  charity 

For  covetousness  disbelieveth  God,  and  laugheth  at  the  rights  of  men ; 
Spurring  unto  theft  and  lying,  and  tempting  to  the  poison  and  the  knife ; 
It  sundereth  the  bonds  of  love,  and  quickeneth  the  flames  of  hate ; 
A  curse  that  shall  wither  the  brain,  and  case"  the  heart  with  iron. 
Content  is  the  true  riches,  for  without  it  there  is  no  satisfying, 
But  a  ravenous  all-devouring  hunger  gnaweth  the  vitals  of  the  soul. 
The  wise  man  knoweth  where  to  stop,  as  he  runneth  in  the  race  cf  fortune 
For  experience  of  old  hath  taught  him  that  happiness  lingereth  midway, 
And  many  in  hot  pursuit  have  hasted  to  the  goal  of  wealth, 
But  have  lost,  as  they  ran,  those  apples  of  gold, — the  mind  and  the  powa 
to  enjoy  it. 

There  is  no  greater  evil  among  men  than  a  testament  framed  with  injustice, 
Where  caprice  hath  guided  the  boon,  or  dishonesty  refused  what  was  due 
Generous  is  the  robber  on  the  highway,  in  the  open  daring  of  his  guilt, 
To  the  secret  coward,  whose  malice  liveth  and  harmeth  after  him : 


84  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Who  smoothly  sank  into  the  tomb  with  the  smile  of  fraud  upon  his  face, 
And  the  last  black  deed  of  his  existence  was  injury  without  redress  ; 
For  deaf  is  the  ear  of  the  dead,  and  can  hear  no  palliating  reasons ; 
The  smiter  is  not  among  the  living,  and  Right  pleadeth  but  in  vain. 
Yet  shall  the  curse  of  the  oppressed  be  as  blight  upon  the  grave  of  the 

unjust ; 

Yea,  bitterly  shall  that  handwriting  testify  against  him  at  the  judgment. 
I  saw  the  humble  relation  that  tended  the  peevishness  of  wealth, 
And  ministered  with  kind  hand  to  the  wailings  of  disease  and  discontent ; 
I  noted  how  watchfulness  and  care  were  feeding  on  the  marrow  of  her 

youth ; 

How  heavy  was  the  yoke  of  dependence,  loaded  by  petty  tyranny ; 
Yet  I  heard  the  frequent  suggestion, — it  can  be  but  a  little  longer, 
Patience  and  mute  submission  shall  one  day  reap  a  rich  reward. 
So,  tacitly  enduring  much,  waited  that  humble  friend, 
Putting  off  the  lover  of  her  youth  until  the  dawn  of  wealth  ; 
And  it  came,  that  day  of  release,  and  the  freed  heart  could  not  sorrow, 
For  now  were  the  years  of  promise  to  yield  their  golden  harvest : 
Hope,  so  long  deferred,  sickly  sparkled  in  her  eye,  '    « 

The  miserable  past  was  forgotten,  as  she  looked  for  the  happier  future, 
And   she   checked,  as   unworthy   and   ungrateful,   the   dark,  suspicious 

thought, 

That  perchance  her  right  had  been  the  safer,  if  not  left  alone  with  honour  : 
But,  alas,  the  sad  knowledge  soon  came,  that  her  stern  task-master's  will 
Hath  rewarded  her  toil  with  a  jibe,  her  patience  with  utter  destitution ! — 
Shall  not  the  scourge  of  justice  lash  that  cruel  coward, 
Who  mingled  the  gall  of  ingratitude  with  the  bitterness  of  disappointment  . 
Shall  not  the  hate  of  men,  and  vengeance,  fiercely  pursuing, 
Hunt  down  the  wretched  being  that  sinneth  in  his  grave  ? 
He  fancied  his  idol  self  safe  from  the  wrath  of  his  fellows, 
But  Hades  rose  as  he  came  in,  to  point  at  him  the  finger  of  scorn ; 
And  again  must  he  meet  that  orphan-maid  to  answer  her,  face  to  face. 
And  her  wrongs  shall  cling  around  his  neck,  to  hinder  him  from  rising 

with  the  just : 

For  his  last  most  solemn  act  hath  linked  his  name  with  liar, 
And  the  crime  of  Ananias  is  branded  on  his  brow  ! 

A  good  man  commendeth  his  cause  to  the  one  great  Patron  of  innocence) 
Convinced  of  justice  at  the  last,  and  sure  of  good  meanwhile. 


OF  WEALTH.  85 

He  knoweth  he  hath  a  Guardian,  wise  and  kind  and  strong, 

And  can  thank  Him  for  giving,  or  refusing,  the  trust  or  the  curse  of 

riches : 

His  confidence  standetli  as  a  rock ;  he  dreadeth  not  malice  nor  caprice, 
Nor  the  whisperings  of  artful  men,  nor  envious  secret  influence ; 
He  scorneth  servile  compromise,  and  the  pliant  mouthings  of  deceit ; 
He  maketh  not  a  show  of  love,  where  he  cannot  concede  esteem ; 
He  regardeth  ill-got  wealth,  as  the  root  most  fruitful  of  wretchedness, 
So  he  walketh  in  strict  integrity,  leaning  on  God  and  his  right. 

No  gain,  but  by  its  price  ;  labour,  for  the  poor  man's  meal, 

Ofttimes  heart-sickening  toil,  to  win  him  a  morsel  for  his  hunger : 

Labour,  for  the  chapman  at  his  trade,  a  dull  unvaried  round, 

Year  after  year,  unto  death ;  yea,  what  a  weariness  is  it ! 

Labour  for  the  pale-faced  scribe,  drudging  at  his  hated  desk, 

Who  bartereth  for  needful  pittance  the  untold  gold  of  health  ; 

Labour,  with  fear,  for  the  merchant,  whose  hopes  are  ventured  on  the 

sea; 

Labour,  with  care,  for  the  man  of  law,  responsible  in  his  gains ; 
Labour,  with  envy  and  annoyance,  where  strangers  will  thee  wealth ; 
Labour,  with  indolence  and  gloom,  where  wealth  falleth  from  a  father ; 
Labour,  unto  all,  whether  aching  thews,  or  aching  head,  or  spirit,— 
The  curse  on  the  sons  of  men,  in  all  their  states,  is  labour. 
Nevertheless,  to  the  diligent,  labour  bringeth  blessing ; 
The  thought  of  duty  sweeteneth  toil,  and  travail  is  as  pleasure  ; 
And  time  spent  in  doing  hath  a  comfort  that  is  not  for  the  idle  ; 
The  hardship  is  transmuted  into  joy,  by  the  dear  alchemy  of  Mercy. 
Labour  is  good  for  a  man,  bracing  up  his  energies  to  conquest, 
And  without  it  life  is  dull,  the  man  perceiving  himself  useless : 
For  wearily  the  body  groaneth,  like  a  door  on  rusty  hinges, 
And  the  grasp  of  the  mind  is  weakened,  as  the  talons  of  a  caged  vulture. 
Wealth  hath  never  given  happiness,  but  often  hastened  misery : 
Enough  hath  never  caused  misery,  but  often  quickened  happiness  : 
Enough  is  less  than  thy  thought,  O  pampered  creature  of  society, 
And  he  that  hath  more  than  enough,  is  a  thief  of  the  right*  hi*  brother. 


8fi  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


OF    INVENTION. 

MAN  is  proud  of  his  mind,  boasting  that  it  giveth  him  divinity, 
Yet  with  all  its  powers  can  it  originate  nothing  : 
For  the  great  God  into  all  his  works  hath  largely  poured  out  himself, 
Raving  one  special  property,  the  grand  prerogative, — Creation. 
To  improve  and  expand  is  ours,  as  well  as  to  limit  and  defeat : 
But  to  create  a  thought  or  a  thing  is  hopeless  and  impossible. 
Can  a  man  make  matter  ? — and  yet  this  would-be  goc 
Tliinketh  to  make  mind,  and  form  original  idea  : 
The  potter  must  have  his  clay,  and  the  mason  his  quarry, 
And  mind  must  drain  ideas  from  every  tiling  around  it. 
Doth  the  soil  generate  herbs,  or  the  torrid  air  breed  flies, 
Or  the  water  frame  its  monads,  or  the  mist  its  swarming  blight  ? — 
Mediately,  through  thousand  generations,  having  seeds  witliiu  themselves, 
All  things,  rare  or  gross,  own  one  common  Father. 
Truly  spake  Wisdom,  There  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun  : 
We  only  arrange  and  combine  the  ancient  elements  of  all  things. 
Invention  is  activity  of  mind,  as  fire  is  air  in  motion. 
A  sharpening  of  the  spiritual  sight,  to  discern  hidden  aptitudes  ; 
From  the  basket  and  acanthus,  is  modelled  the  graceful  capital : 
The  shadowed  profile  on  the  wall  helpeth  the  limner  to  his  likeness : 
The  footmarks  stamped  in  clay,  lead  on  the  thoughts  to  printing ; 
The  strange  skin  garments  cast  upon  the  shore  suggest  another  hemi- 
sphere :  (23) 

A  falling  apple  taught  the  sage  pervading  gravitation ; 
The  Huron  is  certain  of  his  prey,  from  tracks  upon  the  grass  ; 
And  shrewdness,  guessing  on  the  hint,  followeth  on  the  trail ; 
But  the  hint  must  be  given,  the  trail  must  be  there,  or  the  keenest  sight  IB 
as  blindness. 

Behold  the  barren  reef,  which  an  earthquake  hath  just  left  dry ; 

It  hath  no  beauty  to  boast  of,  no  harvest  of  fair  fruits  : 

But  soon  the  lichen  fixeth  there,  and,  dying,  diggeth  its  own  grave,  (*4) 

And  softening  suns  and  splitting  frosts  crumble  the  reluctant  surface ; 

And  cormorants  roost  there,  and  the  snail  addeth  its  slime, 

And  efts,  with  muddy  feet,  bring  their  welcome  tribute  ; 


OF  INVENTION.  87 

And  the  sea  casteth  out  her  dead,  wrapped  in  a  shroud  of  weeds ; 

And  orderly  nature  arrangeth  again  the  disunited  atoms  : 

Anon,  the  cold  smooth  stone  is  warm  with  feathery  grass, 

And  the  light  sporules  of  the  fern  are  dropt  by  the  passing  wind. 

The  wood-pigeon,  on  swift  wing,  leaveth  its  crop-full  of  grain ; 

The  squirrel's  jealous  care  planteth  the  fir-cone  and  the  filbert ; 

Years  pass,  and  the  sterile  rock  is  rank  with  tangled  herbage ; 

The  wild  vine  clingeth  to  the  brier,  and  ivy  runneth  green  among  the  corn, 

JLordly  beeches  are  studded  on  the  down,  and  willows  crowd  around  tha 

rivulet ; 

And  the  tall  pine  and  hazel  thicket  shade  the  rambling  hunter. 
Shall  the  rock  boast  of  its  fertility  ?  shall  it  lift  the  head  in  pride  ? — 
Shall  the  mind  of  man  be  vain  of  the  harvest  of  its  thoughts  ? 
The  savage  is  that  rock :  and  a  million  chances  from  without, 
By  little  and  little  acting  on  the  mind,  heap  up  the  hotbed  of  society ; 
And  the  soul,  fed  and  fattened  on  the  thoughts  and  things  around  it, 
Groweth  to  perfection,  full  of  fruit,  the  fruit  of  foreign  seeds. 
For  we  learn  upon  a  hint,  we  find  upon  a  clue, 
We  yield  an  hundred-fold ;  but  the  great  sower  is  Analogy. 
There  must  be  an  acrid  sloe  before  a  luscious  peach, 
A  boll  of  rotting  flax  before  the  bridal  veil, 
An  egg  before  an  eagle,  a  thought  before  a  thing, 
A  spark  struck  into  tinder,  to  light  the  lamp  of  knowledge, 
A  slight  suggestive  nod  to  guide  the  watching  mind, 
A  half-seen  hand  upon  the  wall,  pointing  to  the  balance  of  Comparison. 
By  culture  man  may  do  all  things,  short  of  the  miracle, — Creation  : 
Here  is  the  limit  of  thy  power, — here  let  thy  pride  be  stayed : 
The  soil  may  be  rich,  and  the  mind  may  be  active,  but  neither  yield  unsown 
The  eye  cannot  make  light,  nor  the  mind  make  spirit : 
Therefore  it  is  wise  in  man  to  name  all  novelty  invention : 
For  it  is  to  find  out  things  that  are,  not  to  create  the  unexisting : 
It  is  to  cling  to  contiguities,  to  be  keen  in  catching  likeness, 
And  with  energetic  elasticity  to  leap  the  gulfs  of  contrast. 
The  globe  kneweth  not  increase,  either  of  matter  or  spirit ; 
Atoms  and  thoughts  are  used  again,  mixing  in  varied  combinations ; 
And  though,  by  moulding  them  anew,  thou  makest  them  thine  own, 
Yet  have  they  served  thousands,  and  all  their  merit  is  of  God. 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY 


OF    RIDICULE. 

SEAMS  of  thought  for  the  sage's  brow,  and  laughing  lines  for  the  fool's 

face ; 
For  all  things  leave  their  track  in  the  mind ;  and  the  glass  of  the  mind  is 

faithful. 
Seest  thou  much  mirth  upon  the  cheek  ?  there  is  then  little  exercise  of 

virtue ; 

For  he  that  looketh  on  the  world  cannot  be  glad  and  good : 
Seest  thou  much  gravity  in  the  eye  ?  be  not  assured  of  finding  wisdom , 
For  she  hath  too  great  praise,  not  to  get  many  mimics. 
There  is  a  grave-faced  folly  ;  and  verily  a  laughter-loving  wisdom  ; 
And  what,  if  surface-judges  account  it  vain  frivolity  ? 
There  is  indeed  an  evil  in  excess,  and  a  field  may  lie  fallow  too  long ; 
Yet  merriment  is  often  as  a  froth,  that  mantleth  on  the  strong  mind : 
And  note  thou  this  for  a  verity, — the  subtlest  thinker  when  alone, 
From  ease  of  thoughts  unbent,  will  laugh  the  loudest  with  his  fellows : 
And  well  is  the  loveliness  of  wisdom  mirrored  in  a  cheerful  countenance ; 
Justly  the  deepest  pools  are  proved  by  dimpling  eddies ; 
For  that  a  true  philosophy  commandeth  an  innocent  life, 
And  the  unguilty  spirit  is  lighter  than  a  linnet's  heart : 
Yea,  there  is  no  cosmetic  like  a  holy  conscience  : 
The  eye  is  bright  with  trust,  the  cheek  bloomed  over  with  affection, 
The  brow  unwrinkled  by  a  care,  and  the  lip  triumphant  in  its  gladness. 

And  for  your  grave-faced  folly,  need  not  far  to  look  for  her ; 

How  seriously  on  trifles  dote  those  leaden  eyes, 

How  ruefully  she  sigheth  after  chances  long  gone  by, 

How  sulkily  she  moaneth  over  evils  without  cure ! 

I  have  known  a  true-born  mirth,  the  child  of  innocence  and  wisdom, 

I  have  seen  a  base-born  gravity,  mingled  of  ignorance  and  guilt : 

And  again,  a  base-born  mirth,  springing  out  of  carelessness  and  folly, 

And  again,  a  true-born  gravity,  the  product  of  reflection  and  right  fear. 

The  wounded  partridge  hideth  in  a  furrow,  and  a  stricken  conscience  would 

be  left  alone ; 

But  when  its  breast  is  healed,  it  runneth  gladly  with  its  fellows : 
Whereas  the  solitary  heron,  standing  in  the  sedgy  fen, 


OF  COMMENDATION.  89 

Holdeth  aloof  from  the  social  world,  intent  on  wiles  and  death. 

Need  but  of  light  philosophy  to  dare  the  world's  dread  laugh ; 

For  a  little  mind  courteth  notoriety,  to  illustrate  its  puny  self: 

But  the  sneer  of  a  man's  own  comrades  trieth  the  muscles  of  courage, 

And  to  be  derided  in  his  home  is  as  a  viper  in  the  nest : 

The  laugh  of  a  hooting  world  hath  in  it  a  notion  of  sublimity, 

But  the  tittering  private  circle  stingeth  as  a  hive  of  wasps. 

Some  have  commended  ridicule,  counting  it  the  test  of  truth,  (**) 

But  neither  wittily  nor  wisely ;  for  truth  must  prove  ridicule : 

Otherwise  a  blunt  bulrush  is  to  pierce  the  proof  armour  of  argument, 

Because  the  stolidity  of  ignorance  took  it  for  a  barbed  shaft. 

Softer  is  the  hide  of  the  rhinoceros  than  the  heart  of  deriding  unbelief, 

And  truth  is  idler  there  than  the  Bushman's  feathered  reed : 

A  droll  conceit  parrieth  a  thrust  that  should  have  hit  the  conscience, 

And  the  leering  looks  of  humour  tickle  the  childish  mind ; 

For  that  the  matter  of  a  man  is  mingled  most  with  folly, 

Neither  can  he  long  endure  the  searching  gaze  of  wisdom. 

It  is  pleasanter  to  see  a  laughing  cheek  than  a  serious  forehead, 

And  there  liveth  not  one  among  a  thousand  whose  idol  is  not  pleasure. 

Ridicule  is  a  weak  weapon,  when  levelled  at  a  strong  mind ; 

But  common  men  are  cowards,  and  dread  an  empty  laugh. 

Fear  a  nettle,  and  touch  it  tenderly, — its  poison  shall  burn  thee  to  the 

shoulder ; 

But  grasp  it  with  bold  hand,  is  it  not  a  bundle  of  myrrh  ? 
Betray  mean  terror  of  ridicule,  thou  shall  find  fools  enough  to  mock  thee ; 
But  answer  thou  their  laughter  with  contempt,  and  the  scoffers  will  lick 

thy  feet. 


OF  COMMENDATION. 

THE  praise  of  holy  men  is  a  promise  of  praise  from  their  Master ; 

A  forerunning  earnest  of  thy  welcome, — Well  done,  faithful  servant ; 

A  rich  preludious  note,  that  droppeth  softly  on  thine  ear, 

To  tell  thee  the  chords  of  thy  heart  are  in  tune  with  the  choirs  of  heaves 

Yet  is  it  a  dangerous  hearing,  for  the  sweetness  may  lull  thee  into  slumbei 

And  the  cordial  quaffed  with  thirst  may  generate  the  fumes  of  presumption. 

Bo  seek  it  not  for  itself,  but  taste,  and  go  gladly  on  thy  way, 


90  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

For  the  mariner  slacketh  not  his  sail,  though  the  sandal-groves  of  Araby 
allure  him ; 

And  the  fragrance  of  that  incense  would  haim  thee,  as  when,  on  a  sum- 
mer evening, 

The  honied  yellow  flowers  of  the  broom  oppress  thy  charmed  sense : 

And  a  man  hath  too  much  of  praise,  for  he  praiseth  himself  continually ; 

Neither  lacketh  he  at  any  time  self-commendation  or  excuse. 

Praise  a  fool,  and  slay  him  :  for  the  canvas  of  his  vanity  is  spread  ; 

His  bark  is  shallow  in  the  water,  and  a  sudden  gust  shall  sink  it : 

Praise  a  wise  man,  and  speed  him  on  his  way ;  for  he  carrieth  the  ballast 

of  humility, 

And  is  glad  when  his  course  is  cheered  by  the  sympathy  of  brethren  ashore. 
The  praise  of  a  good  man  is  good,  for  he  holdeth  up  the  mirror  of  Truth, 
That  Virtue  may  see  her  own  beauty,  and  delight  in  her  own  fair  face : 
The  praise  of  a  bad  man  is  evil,  for  he  hideth  the  deformity  of  Vice, 
Casting  the  mantle  of  a  queen  around  the  limbs  of  a  leper. 
Praise  is  rebuke  to  the  man  whose  conscience  alloweth  it  not : 
And  where  conscience  feeleth  it  her  due,  no  praise  is  better  than  a  little. 
He  that  despiseth  the  outward  appearance,  despiseth  the  esteem  of  hia 

fellows ; 

And  he  that  overmuch  rogardeth  it,  shall  earn  only  their  contempt : 
The  honest  commendation  of  an  equal  no  one  can  scorn,  and  be  blameless 
Yet  even  that  fair  fame  no  one  can  hunt  for  and  be  honoured  : 
If  it  come,  accept  it  and  be  thankful,  and  be  thou  humble  in  accepting ; 
If  it  tarry,  be  not  thou  cast  down ;  the  bee  can  gather  honey  out  of  rue  : 
And  is  thine  aim  so  low,  that  the  breath  of  those  around  thee 
Can  speed  thy  feathered  arrow,  or  retard  its  flight ' 
The  child  shooteth  at  a  butterfly,  but  the  man's  mark  is  an  eagle ; 
And  while  his  fellows  talk,  he  hath  conquered  in  the  clouds. 
Ally  thee  to  truth  and  godliness,  and  use  the  talents  in  thy  charge : 
So  shalt  thou  walk  in  peace,  deserving,  if  not  having. 
With  a  friend,  praise  him  when  thou  canst ;  for  many  a  friendship  hatn 
decayed,  ^ 

Like  a  plant  in  a  crowded  corner,  for  want  of  sunshine  on  its  leaves : 
With  another,  praise  him  not  often — otherwise  he  shall  despise  thee ; 
But  be  thou  frugal  in  commending ;  so  will  he  give  honour  to  thy  judg- 
ment: 

For  thou  that  dost  so  zealously  commend,  art  acknowledging  thine  own 
inferiority, 


OF  COMMENDATION.  91 

And  he,  thou  so  highly  hast  exalted,  shall  proudly  look  down  on  thy 
esteem. 

Wilt  thou  that  one  remember  a  thing  ? — praise  him  in  the  midst  of  thy 

advice ; 

Never  yet  forgat  man  the  word  whereby  he  hath  been  praised. 
Better  to  be  censured  by  a  thousand  fools,  than  reproved  but  by  one  man 

that  is  wise ; 

For  the  pious  are  slower  to  help  right,  than  the  profane  to  hinder  it : 
So,  where  the  world  rebuketh,  there  look  thou  for  the  excellent, 
And  be  suspicious  of  the  good,  which  wicked  men  can  praise. 
The  captain  bindeth  his  troop,  not  more  by  severity  than  kindness, 
And  justly,  should  recompense  well-doing,  as  well  as  be  strict  with  an 

offender ; 

The  laurel  is"  cheap  to  the  giver,  but  precious  in  his  sight  who  hath  won  it, 
And  the  heart  of  the  soldier  rejoiceth  in  the  approving  glance  of  his  chief. 
Timely  given  praise  is  even  better  than  the  merited  rebuke  of  censure, 
For  the  sun  is  more  needful  to  the  plant  than  the  knife  that  cutteth  out  a 

canker ; 

Many  a  father  hath  erred,  in  that  he  hath  withheld  reproof, 
But  more  have  mostly  sinned,  in  withholding  praise  where  it  was  due : 
There  be  many  such  as  Eli  among  men ;  but  these  be  more  culpable  than 

Eli, 

Who  chill  the  fountain  of  exertion  by  the  freezing  looks  of  indifference : 
Ye  call  a  man  easy  and  good,  yet  he  is  as  a  two-edged  sword ; 
He  rebuketh  not  vice,  and  it  is  strong :  he  comforteth  not  virtue,  and  it 

fainteth. 

There  is  nothing  more  potent  among  men  than  a  gift  timely  bestowed ; 
And  a  gift  kept  back  where  it  was  hoped,  separateth  chief  friends  : 
For  what  is  a  gift  but  a  symbol,  giving  substance  to  praise  and  esteem  ? 
And  where  is  a  sharper  arrow  than  the  sting  of  unmerited  neglect  ? 

Expect  not  praise  from  the  mean,  neither  gratitude  from  the  selfish ; 

And  to  keep  the  proud  thy  friend,  see  thou  do  him  not  a  service : 

For,  behold,  he  will  hate  thee  for  hid  debt :  thou  hast  humbled  him  by 

giving; 
And  his  stubbornness  never  shall  acknowledge  the, good  he  hath  taken 

from  thy  hand : 
Yea,  rather  will  he  turn  and  be  thy  foe,  lest  thou  gather  from  his  friendship 


9»  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

That  he  doth  account  thee  creditor,  and  standeth  in  the  second  place ; 

Still,  O  kindly  feeling  heart,  be  not  thou  chilled  by  the  thankless, 

Neither  let  the  breath  of  gratitude  fan  thee  into  momentary  heat. 

Do  good  for  good's  own  sake,  looking  not  to  worthiness  nor  love ; 

Fling  thy  grain  among  the  rocks,  cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters, 

His  claim  be  strongest  to  thy  help  who  is  thrown  most  helplessly  upon 

thee, — 
So  shalt  thou  have  a  better  praise,  and  reap  a  richer  harvest  of  reward. 

i 

If  a  man  hold  fast  to  thy  creed,  and  fit  his  thinking  to  thy  notions,  ' 

Thou  shalt  take  him  for  a  man  right-minded,  yea,  and  excuse  his  evil : 

But  scest  thou  not,  O  bigot,  that  thy  zeal  is  but  a  hunting  after  praise, 

And  the  full  pleasure  of  a  proselyte  lieth  in  the  flattering  of  self  ? 

A  man  of  many  praises  meeteth  many  welcomes, 

But  he  who  blameth  often,  shall  not  keep  a  friend  ; 

The  velvet-coated  apricot  is  one  thing,  and  the  spiked  horse-chestnut  is 

another ; 

A  handle  of  smooth  amber  is  pleasanter  than  rough  buck-horn. 
Show  me  a  popular  man ;  I  can  tell  thee  the  secret  of  his  power ; 
He  hath  soothed  them  with  glozing  words,  lulling  their  ears  with  flattery ; 
The  smile  of  seeming  approbation  is  ever  the  companion  of  his  presence, 
And  courteous  looks,  and  warm  regards,  earn  him  all  their  hearts. 

Nothing  but  may  be  better,  and  every  better  might  be  best ; 

The  blind  may  discern,  and  the  simple  prove,  fault  or  want  in  all  things  ; 

And  a  little  mind  looketh  on  the  lily  with  a  microscopic  eye, 

Eager  and  glad  to  pry  out  specks  on  its  robe  of  purity ; 

But  a  great  mind  gazeth  on  the  sun,  glorying  in  his  brightness, 

And  taking  large  knowledge  of  his  good,  in  the  broad  prairie  of  creation : 

What,  though  he  hatch  basilisks  ?  what,  though  spots  are  on  the  sun  ? 

In  fullness  is  his  worth,  in  fullness  be  his  praise ! 


OF    SELF-ACQUAINTANCE. 

KNOWLEDGE  holdeth  by  the  hilt,  and  heweth  out  a  road  to  conquest ; 
Ignorance  graspeth  the  blade,  and  is  wounded  by  its  own  good  sword : 


OF  SELF- ACQUAINTANCE.  93' 

Knowledge  distilleth  health  from  the  virulence  of  opposite  poisons ; 
Ignorance  mixeth  wholesomes  unto  the  breeding  of  disease : 
Knowledge  is  leagued  with  the  universe,  and  findeth  a  friend  in  all  things ; 
But  ignorance  is  every  where  a  stranger ;  unwelcome ;  ill  at  ease,  and 

out  of  place. 

A  man  is  helpless  and  unsafe  up  to  the  measure  of  his  ignorance,  , 

For  he  lacketh  perception  of  the  aptitudes  commending  such  a  matter  to 
.  his  use, 

Clutching  at  the  horn  of  danger,  while  he  judgeth  it  the  handle  of  security, 
Or  casting  his  anchor  so  widely,  that  the  granite  reef  is  just  within  the 

tether. 

Untaught  in  science  he  is  but  half  alive,  stupidly  taking  note  of  nothing, 
Or  listening  with  dull  wonder  to  the  crafty  saws  of  an  empiric ; 
Simple  in  the  world,  he  trusteth  unto  knaves ;  and  then  to  make  amends 

for  folly, 
Dealeth  so  shrewdly  with  the  honest,  they  cannot  but  suspect  him  for  a 

thief; 
With  an  unknown  God,  he  maketh  mock  of  reason,  fathering  contrivance 

on  chance, 

Or  doting  with  superstitious  dread  on  some  crooked  image  of  his  fancy : 
But  ignorant  of  self,  he  is  weakness  at  heart ;  the  keystone  crumbletli 

into  sand, 

There  is  panic  in  the  general's  tent,  the  oak  is  hollow  as  hemlock ; 
Though  the  warm  sap  creepeth  up  its  bark,  filling  out  the  sheaf  of  leaves, 
Though  knowledge  of  all  things  beside  add  proofs  of  seeming  vigour, 
Though  the  master-mind  of  the  royal  sage  feast  on  the  mysteries  of 

wisdom, 

Yet  ignorance  of  self  shall  bow  down  the  spirit  of  a  Solomon  to  idols  j 
The  storm  of  temptation,  sweeping  by,  shall  snap  that  oak  like  a  reed, 
And  the  proud  luxuriance  of  its  tufted  crown  drag  it  the  sooner  to  the  dust 

Youth,  confident  in  self,  tampereth  with  dangerous  dalliance, 
Till  the  vice  his  heart  once  hated  hath  locked  him  in  her  foul  embrace : 
Manhood,  through  zeal  of  doing  good,  seeketh  high  place  for  its  occasions, 
Unwitting  that  the  bleak  mountain-air  will  nip  the  tender  budding  of  hia 

motives ; 

Or  painfully,  for  love  of  truth,  he  climbeth  the  ladder  of  science, 
Till  pride  of  intellect,  heating  his  heart,  warpeth  it  aside  to  delusion; 
The  maiden,  to  give  shadow  to  her  fairness,  plaiteth  her  raven  hair, 


94  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Heedlessly  weaving  for  her  soul  the  silken  net  of  vanity : 

The  gray-beard  looketh  on  his  gold,  till  he  loveth  its  yellow  smile, 

Unconscious  of  the  bright  decoy  which  is  luring  his  heart  unto  avarice: 

Wrath  avoideth  no  quarrel,  jealousy  counteth  its  suspicions, 

Pining  envy  gazeth  still,  and  melancholy  seeketh  solitude : 

The  sensitive  broodeth  on  his  slights,  the  fearful  poreth  over  horrors, 

The  train  of  wantonness  is  fired,  the  nerves  of  indecision  are  unstrung  ; 

Each  special  proneness  unto  harm  is  pampered  by  ignorant  indulgence, 

And  the  man,  for  want  of  warning,  yieldeth  to  the  apt  temptation. 

A  smith  at  the  loom,  and  a  weaver  at  the  forge,  were  but  »orry  craftsmen , 

And  a  ship  that  saileth  on  every  wind  never  shall  reach  her  port : 

Yet  there  be  thousands  among  men  who  heed  not  the  leaning  of  their 

talents, 

But,  cutting  against  the  grain,  toil  on  to  no  good -end ; 
And  the  light  of  a  thoughtful  spirit  is  quenched  beneath  the  bushel  of 

commerce,  * 

While  meaner  plodding  minds  are  driven  up  the  mountain  of  philosophy : 
The  cedar  withereth  on  a  wall,  while  the  house-leek  is  fattening  in  a 

hot-bed, 

And  the  dock  with  its  rank  leaves  hideth  the  sun  from  violets. 
To  every  thing  a  fitting  place,  a  proper  honourable  use ; 
The  humblest  measure  of  mind  is  bright  hi  its  humble  sphere : 
The  glowworm,  creeping  in  the  hedge,  lighteth  her  evening  torch, 
And  her  far-off  mate,  on  gossamer  sail,  steereth  his  course  by  that  star : 
But  ignorance  mocketh  at  proprieties,  bringing  out  the  glowworm  at  noon, 
And  setteth  the  faults  of  mediocrity  in  the  full  blaze  of  wisdom. 
Ravens  croaking  in  darkness,  and  a  skylark  trilling  to  the  sun, 
The  voice  of  a  screech-owl  from  a  ruin,  and  the  blackbird's  whistle  in  a 

wood, 

A  cushion-footed  camel  for  the  sands,  and  a  swift  reindeer  for  the  snows, 
A  naked  skin  for  Ethiopia,  and  rich  soft  furs  for  the  Pole : 
In  all  things  is  there  a  fitness :  discord  with  discord  hath  its  music ; 
And  the  harmony  of  nature  is  preserved  by  each  one  knowing  his  place. 

The  blind  at  an  easel,  the  palsied  with  a  graver,  the  halt  making  for  the 

goal, 

The  deaf  ear  tuning  psaltery,  the  stammerer  discoursing  eloquence,— 
What  wonder  if  all  fail  ?  the  shaft  flieth  wide  of  the  mark, 


OF  SELF-ACQUAINTANCE.  95 

Alike  if  itself  be  crooked,  or  the  bow  be  strung  awry'; 

And  the  mind  which  were  excellent  in  one  way,  but  foolishly  toileth  in 

another, 

What  is  it  but  an  ill-strung  bow,  and  its  aim  a  crooked  arrow  ? 
By  knowledge  of  self,  thou  provest  thy  powers ;  put  not  the  racer  to  the 

plough, 

Nor  goad  the  toilsome  ox  to  wager  his  slowness  with  the  fleet : 
Consider  thy  failings,  heed  thy  propensities,  search  out  thy  latent  virtues, 
Analy/e  the  doubtful,  cultivate  the  good,  and  crush  the  head  of  evil ; 
So  shalt  thou  catch  with  quick  hand  the  golden  ball  of  opportunity  ; 
The  warrior  armed  shall  be  ready  for  the  fray,  beside  his  bridled  steed ; 
Thou  shalt  Ward  off  special  harms,  and  have  the  sway  of  circumstance, 
And  turn  to  thy  special  good  the  common  current  of  events ; 
Choosing  from  the  wardrobe  of  the  world,  thou  shalt  suitably  clothe  thy 

spirit, 

Nor  thrust  the  white  hand  of  peace  into  the  gauntlet  of  defiance : 
The  shepherd  shall  go  with  a  staff,  and  conquer  by  sling  and  stone ; 
The  soldier  shall  let  alone  the  distaff,  and  the  scribe  lay  down  the  sword , 
The  man  unlearned  shall  keep  silence,  and  learn  one  attribute  of  wisdom ; 
The  sage  be  sparing  of  his  lessons  before  unhearing  ears  : 
Calm  shalt  thou  be,  as  a  lion  in  repose,  conscious  of  passive  strength, 
And  the  shock  that  splitteth  the  globe,  shall  not  unthrone  thy  self-possession. 

Acquaint  thee  with  thyself,  O  man !  so  shalt  thou  be  humble : 

The  hard  hot  desert  of  thy  heart  shall  blossom  with  the  lily  and  the  rose ; 

The  frozen  cliffs  of  pride  shall  melt  as  an  iceberg  in  the  tropics ; 

The  bitter  fountains  of  self-seeking  be  sweeter  than  the  waters  of  the 

Nile. 

But  if  thou  lack  that  wisdom, — thy  frail  skiff  is  doomed, 
On  stronger  eddy  whirling  to  the  dreadful  gorge ; 
Untaught  in  that  grand  lore, — thou  standest,  cased  in  steel, 
To  dare  with  mocking  unbelief  the  thunderbolts  of  heaven. 
For  look  now  around  thee  on  the  universe,  behold  how  all  things  serve 

thee; 

The  teeming  soil,  and  the  buoyant  sea,  and  undulating  air, 
Golden  crops,  and  bloomy  fruits,  and  flowers,  and  precious  gems, 
Choice  perfumes,  and  fair  sights,  soft  touches,  and  sweet  music : 
For  thee,  shoaling  up  the  bay,  crowd  the  finny  nations, 
For  thee,  the  cattle  on  a  thousand  hills  live,  and  labour,  and  die : 


.16  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Jj'ght  is  thy  daily  slave,  darkness  inviteth  thee  to  slumber ; 

Thou  art  served  by  the  hands  of  Beauty,  and  Sublimity  kneeleth  at  thy 

feet: 

Arise,  thou  sovereign  of  creation,  and  behold  thy  glory ! 
Yet  more,  thou  hast  a  mind ;  intellect  wingeth  thee  to  heaven, 
Tendeth  thy  state  on  earth,  and  by  it  thou  divest  down  to  hell ; 
Thou  hast  measured  the  belt  of  Saturn,  thou  hast  weighed  the  moons  of 

Jupiter, 

And  seen,  by  reason's  eye,  the  centre  of  thy  globe  ; 
Subtly  hast  thou  numbered  by  billions  the  leagues  between  sun  and  sun, 
And  noted  in  thy  book  the  coming  of  their  shadows : 
With  marvellous  unerring  truth  thou  knowest  to  an  inch  and  to  an  instant, 
The  where  and  the  when  of  the  comet's  path  that  shall  seem  to  rush  by 

at  thy  command : 

Arise,  thou  king  of  mind,  and  survey  thy  dignity  ! 
Yet  more, — -for  once  believe  religion's  flattering  tale  ; 
Thou  hast  a  soul,  aye,  and  a  God, — but  be  not  therefore  humbled : 
Thy  Maker's  self,  was  glad  to  live  and  die — a  man  ; 
The  brightest  jewel  in  his  crown  is  voluntary  manhood : 
By  deep  dishonour  and  great  price,  bought  he  that  envied  freedom, 
But  thou  wast  born  an  heir  of  all,  thy  Master  scarce  could  earn. 
O  climax  unto  pride,  O  triumph  of  humanity, 
O  triple  crown  upon  thy  brow,  most  high  and  mighty  Self ! 
Arise  thou  Lord  of  all,  thou  greater  than  a  God  ! — 
How  saidst  thou,  wretched  being  ? — cast  thy  glance  within  ; 
Regard  that  painted  sepulchre,  the  hovel  of  thy  heart. 
Ha  !  with  what  fearful  imagery  swarmeth  that  small  chamber ; 
The  horrid  eye  of  murder  scowling  in  the  dark, 
The  bony  hand  of  avarice  filching  from  the  poor, 
The  lurid  fires  of  lust,  the  idiot  face  of  folly, 
The  sickening  deed  of  cruelty,  the  foul,  fierce  orgies  of  the  drunken, 
Weak  contemptible  vanity,  stubborn  stolid  unbelief, 
Envy's  devilish  sneer,  and  the  vile  features  of  ingratitude, — 
Man,  hast  thou  seen  enough  ?  or  are  these  full  proof 
That  thou  art  a  miracle  of  mercy,  and  all  thy  dignity  is  dross  ? 

Well  said  the  wisdom  of  earth,  O  mortal,  know  thyself; 
But  better  the  wisdom  of  heaven,  O  man,  learn  thou  thy  God : 
By  knowledge  of  self  thou  art  conusant  of  evil,  and  mailed  in  panoply  to 
meet  it : 


OF  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS.  97 

By  knowledge  of  God  cometh  knowledge  of  good,  and  universal  love  is  a! 

thy  heart. 

Every  creature  knoweth  its  capacities,  running  in  the  road  of  instinct, 
And  reason  must  not  lag  behind,  but  serve  itself  of  all  proprieties : 
The  swift  to  the  race,  and  the  strong  to  the  burden,  and  the  wise  for  right 

direction ; 

For  self-knowledge  filleth  with  acceptance  its  niche  in  the  temple  of  utility : 
But  vainly  wilt  thou  look  for  that  knowledge,  till  the  clue  of  all  truth  is 

in  thy  hand, 

For  the  labyrinth  of  man's  heart  windeth  in  complicate  deceivings  : 
Thou  canst  not  sound  its  depths  with  the  shallow  plumb-line  of  reason, 
Till  religion,  the  pilot  of  the  soul,  have  lent  thee  her  unfathomable  coil : 
Therefore,  for  this  grand  knowledge,  and  knowledge  is  the  parent  of  do 

minion, 
Learn  God,  thou  shalt  know  thyself ;  yea,  and  shall  have  mastery  of  all 

things. 


OF   CRUELTY    TO  ANIMALS. 

Shame  upon  thee.  savage  monarch-man,  proud  monopolist  of  reason ; 
Shame  upon  creation's  lord,  the  fierce  ensanguined  despot : 
What,  man !  are  there  not  enough,  hunger,  and  diseases,  and  fatigue,—* 
And  yet  must  thy  goad  or  thy  thong  add  another  sorrow  to  existence  ? 
What !    art  thou  not  content  thy  sin  hath  dragged  down  suffering  and 

death 
On  the  poor  dumb  servants  of  thy  comfort,  and  yet  thou  must  rack  them 

with  thy  spite  ? 

The  prodigal  heir  of  creation  hath  gambled  away  his  all, — 
Shall  he  add  torment  to  the  bondage,  that  is  galling  his  forfeit  serfs  ? 
The  leader  in  nature's  paean  himself  hath  marred  her  psaltery, 
Shall  he  multiply  the  din  of  discord  by  overstraining  all  the  strings  ? 
The  rebel  hath  fortified  his  stronghold,  shutting  in  his  vassals  with  him— 
Shall  he  aggravate  the  woes  of  the  besieged  by  oppression  from  within  ? 
Thou  twice  deformed  image  of  thy  Maker,  thou  hateful  representative  of 

Love, 

For  very  shame  be  merciful,  be  kind  unto  the  creatures  thou  nast  ruined ; 
Earth  and  her  million  tribes  are  cursed  for  thy  sake ; 

6 


W  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Earth  and  her  million  tribes  still  writhe  beneath  thy  cruelty  : 

Liveth  there  but  one  among  the  million  that  shall  not  bear  witness  against 

thee? 
A  pensioner  of  land  or  air  or  sea,  that  hath  not  whereof  it  will  accuse 

thee? 

From  the  elephant  toiling  at  a  launch,  to  the  shrew-mouse  in  the  harvest- 
field, 
From  the  whale  which  the  harpooner  hath  stricken,  to  the  minnow  caught 

upon  a  pin, 

From  the  albatross  wearied  in  its  flight,  to  the  wren  in  her  covered  nest, 
From  the  death-moth  and  lace-winged  dragon-fly,  to  the  lady-bird  and  the 

gnat, 

The  verdict  of  all  things  is  unanimous,  finding  their  master  cruel : 
The  dog,  thy  humble  friend,  thy  trusting,  honest  friend ; 
The  ass,  thine  uncomplaining  slave,  drudging  from  morn  to  even  ; 
The  Iamb,  and  the  timorous  hare,  and  the  laboring  ox  at  plough  ; 
The  speckled  trout,  basking  in  the  shallow,  and  the  partridge,  gleaning  in 

the  stubble, 
And  the  stag  at  bay,  and  the  worm  in  thy  path,  and  the  wild  bird  pining 

in  captivity, 

And  all  things  that  minister  alike  to  thy  life  and  thy  comfort  and  thy  pride, 
Testify  with  one  sad  voice  that  man  is  a  cruel  master. 

Verily,  they  are  all  thine,  freely  mayst  thou  serve  thee  of  them  all ; 
They  are  thine  by  gift  for  thy  needs,  to  be  used  in  all  gratitude  and  kind 

ness : 

Gratitude  to  their  God  and  thine, — their  Father  and  thy  Father, 
Kindness  to  them  who  toil  for  thee,  and  help  thee  with  their  all : 
For  meat,  but  not  by  wantonness  of  slaying  ;  for  burden,  but  with  limits 

of  humanity ; 
For  luxury,  but  not  through  torture ;  for  draught,  but  according  to  the 

strength : 

For  a  dog  cannot  plead  his  own  right  nor  render  a  reason  for  exemption, 
Nor  give  a  soft  answer  unto  wrath,  to  turn  aside  the  undeserved  lash  ; 
The  galled  ox  cannot  complain,  nor  supplicate  a  moment's  respite ; 
The  spent  horse  hideth  his  distress,  till  he  panteth  out  his  spirit  at  the 

goal ; 

Also,  in  the  winter  of  life,  when  worn  by  constant  toil, 
If  ingratitude  forget  his  services,  he  cannot  bring  them  to  remembrance : 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  99 

Behold,  he  is  faint  with  hunger ;  the  big  tear  standeth  in  his  eye ; 

His  skin  is  sore  with  stripes,  and  he  tottereth  beneath  his  burden ; 

Hig  limbs  are  stiff  with  age,  his  sinews  have  lost  their  vigour, 

And  pain  is  stamped  upon  his  face,  while  he  wrestleth  unequally  with  toil; 

Yet  once  more  mutely  and  meekly  endureth  he  the  crushing  blow ; 

That  struggle  hath  cracked  his  heart-strings, — the  generous  brute  is  dead  ! 

Liveth  there  no  advocate  for  him  ?  no  judge  to  avenge  his  wrongs  ? 

No  voice  that  shall  be  heard  in  his  defence  ?  no  sentence  to  be  passed  on 

his  oppressor  ? 

Yea,  the  sad  eye  of  the  tortured  pleadeth  pathetically  for  him  : 
Yea,  all  the  justice  in  heaven  is  roused  in  indignation  at  his  woes  : 
Yea,  all  the  pity  upon  earth  shall  call  down  a  curse  upon  the  cruel : 
Yea,  the  burning  malice  of  the  wicked  is  their  own  exceeding  punishment. 
The  Angel  of  Mercy  stoppeth  not  to  comfort,  but  passeth  by  on  the  other 

side, 
And  hath  no  tear  to  shed  when  a  cruel  man  is  damned. 


OF    FRIENDSHIP. 

As  frost  to  the  bud,  and  blight  to  the  blossom,  even  such  is  self-interest  to 

friendship : 

For  Confidence  cannot  dwell  where  Selfishness  is  porter  at  the  gate. 
If  thou  see  thy  friend  to  be  selfish,  thou  canst  not  be  sure  of  lu's  honesty ; 
And  in  seeking  thine  own  weal,  thou  hast  wronged  the  reliance  of  thy 

friend. 

Flattery  hideth  her  varnished  face  when  Friendship  sitteth  at  his  board ; 
And  the  door  is  shut  upon  Suspicion,  but  Candour  is  bid  glad  welcome. 
For  Friendship  abhorreth  doubt,  its  life  is  in  mutual  trust, 
And  perisheth,  when  artful  praise  proveth  it  is  sought  for  a  purpose. 
A  man  may  be1  good  to  thee  at  times,  and  render  thee  mighty  service, 
Whom  yet  thy  secret  soul  could  not  desire  as%a  friend ; 
For  the  sum  of  life  is  in  trifles,  and  though,  in  the  weightier  masses, 
A  man  refuse  thee  not  his  purse,  nay,  his  all  in  thine  utmost  need, 
Yet,  if  thou  canst  net  feel  that  his  character  agreeth  with  thine  own, 
Thou  never  wilt  call  him  friend,  though  thou  render  him  a  heart  full  ol 

gratitude. 
A  coarse  man  grindeth  harshly  the  finer  feelings  of  his  brother  j 


100  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  common  mind  will  soon  depart  from  the  dull  companionship  of  wisdom; 
A  weak  soul  dareth  not  to  follow  in  the  track  of  vigour  and  decision ; 
And  the  worldly  regardeth  with  scorn  the  seeming  foolishness  of  faith. 
A  mountain  is  made  up  of  atoms,  and  friendship  of  little  matters, 
And  if  the  atoms  hold  not  together,  the  mountain  is  crumbled  into  dust. 

Come,  I  will  show  thee  a  friend ;  I  will  paint  one  worthy  of  thy  trust : 
Thine  heart  shall  not  weary  of  him  :  thou  shall  not  secretly  despise  him. 
Thou  art  long  in  learning  him,  in  unravelling  all  his  worth ; 
And  he  dazzleth  not  thine  eyes  at  first,  to  be  darkened  in  thy  sight  afterward, 
But  riseth  from  small  beginnings,  and  reacheth  the  height  of  thy  esteem. 
He  remembereth  that  thou  art  only  man ;  he  expecteth  not  great  things 

from  thee ; 
And  his  forbearance  toward  thee  silently  teacheth  thee  to  be  considerate 

unto  him. 

He  despiseth  not  courtesy  of  manner,  nor  neglecteth  the  decencies  of  life : 
Nor  mocketh  the  failings  of  others,  nor  is  harsh  in  his  censures  before  thee ; 
For  so,  how  couldst  thou  tell,  if  he  talketh  not  of  thee  in  ridicule  ? 
He  withholdeth  no  secret  from  thee,  and  rejecteth  not  thine  in  turn ; 
He  shareth  his  joys  with  thee,  and  is  glad  to  bear  part  in  thy  sorrows. 
Yet  one  thing,  he  loveth  thee  too  well  to  show  thee  the  corruptions  of  his 

heart : 

For  as  an  ill  example  strengthened  the  hands  of  the  wicked, 
So  to  put  forward  thy  guilt  is  a  secret  poison  to  thy  friend : 
For  the  evil  in  his  nature  is  comforted,  and  he  warreth  more  weakly  against  it, 
If  he  find  that  the  friend  whom  he  honoureth,  is  a  man  more  sinful  than 

himself. 

I  hear  the  communing  of  friends  ;  ye  speak  out  the  fullness  of  your  souls, 
And  being  but  men,  as  men,  ye  own  to  all  the  sympathies  of  manhood :  ("1 
Confidence  openeth  the  lips,  indulgence  beameth  from  the  eye, 
The  tongue  loveth  not  boasting,  the  heart  is  made  glad  with  kindness : 
And  one  standeth  not  as  on  a  hill,  beckoning  to  the  other  to  follow, 
But  ye  toil  up  hand  in  hand,  and  carry  each  other's  burdens. 
Ye  commune  of  hopes  and  aspirations,  the  fervent  breathings  of  the  heart, 
Ye  speak  with  pleasant  interchange  the  treasured  secrets  of  affection, 
Ye  listen  to  the  voice  of  complaint,  and  whisper  the  language  of  comfort, 
And  as  in  a  double  solitude,  ye  think  in  each  other's  hearing. 

Choose  thy  friend  discreetly,  and  see  thou  consider  his  station, 


OF  FRIENDSHIP.  101 

For  tne  graduated  scale  of  ranks  accordeth  with  the  ordinance  of  heaven  : 

If  a  low  companion  ripen  to  a  friend,  in  the  full  sunshine  of  thy  confidence, 

Know,  that  for  old  age  thou  hast  heaped  up  sorrow : 

For  thou  sinkest  to  that  level,  and  thy  kin  shall  scorn  thee. 

Yea,  and  the  menial  thou  hast  pampered  haply  shall  neglect  thee  in  thy 

death : 

And  if  thou  readiest  up  to  high  estates,  thinking  to  herd  with  princes, 
What  art  thou  but  a  footstool?  though  so  near  a  throne  ? 
O  rush  among  the  lilies,  be  taught  thou  art  a  weed ; 
O  brier  among  the  cedars,  hot  contempt  shall  burn  thee. 
But  thou,  friend  and  scholar,  select  from  thine  own  caste, 
And  make  not  an  intimate  of  one,  thy  servant  or  thy  master ; 
For  only  friendship  among  men  is  the  true  republic, 
Where  all  have  equality  of  service,  and  all  have  freedom  of  command. 
And  yet,  if  thou  wilt  take  my  judgment,  be  shy  of  too  much  openness 

with  any, 

Lest  thou  repent  hereafter,  should  he  turn  and  rend  thee : 
For  many  an  apostate  friend  hath  abused  unguarded  confidence, 
And  bent  to  selfish  ends  the  secret  of  the  soul. 

Absence  strengtheneth  friendship,  where  the  last  recollections  were  kindly ; 

But  it  must  be  good  wine  at  the  last,  or  absence  shall  weaken  it  daily. 

A  rare  tiling  is  faith,  and  friendship  is  a  marvel  among  men, 

Yet  strange  faces  call  they  friends,  and  say  they  believe,  when  they  doubt. 

Those  hours  are  not  lost  that  are  spent  in  cementing  affection  ; 

For  a  friend  is  above  gold,  precious  as  the  stores  of  the  mind. 

Be  sparing  of  advice  by  words,  but  teach  thy  lesson  by  example  ; 

For  the  vanity  of  man  may  be  wounded,  and  retort  unkindly  upon  thee 

There  be  some  that  never  had  a  friend,  because  they  were  gross  and 

selfish ; 

Worldliness,  and  apathy,  and  pride,  leave  not  many  that  are  worthy  : 
But  one  who  meriteth  esteem,  need  never  lack  a  friend  ; 
For  as  thistle-down  flieth  abroad,  and  casteth  its  anchor  in  the  soil, 
So  philanthropy  yearneth  for  a  heart,  where  it  may  take  root  and  blossom. 

Yet  I  hear  the  child  of  sensibility  moaning  at  the  wintry  cold, 
Wherein  the  mists  of  selfishness  have  wrapped  the  society  of  men  : 
He  grieveth,  and  hath  deep  reasons  ;  for  falsehood  hath  wronged  his  trust, 
And  the  breaches  in  his  bleeding  heart  have  been  filled  with  the  briers  of 
Suspicion. 


102  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

For,  alas,  how  few  be  friends,  of  whom  charity  hath  hoped  well ! 

How  few  there  be  among  men  who  forget  themselves  for  others ! 

Each  one  seeketh  his  own,  and  looketh  on  his  brethren  as  rivals, 

Masking  envy  with  friendship,  to  serve  his  secret  ends. 

And  the  world,  that  corrupteth  all  good,  hath  wronged  that  sacred  name, 

For  it  calleth  any  man  friend,  who  is  not  known  for  an  enemy ; 

And  such  be  as  the  flies  of  summer,  while  plenty  sitteth  at  thy  board ; 

But  who  can  wonder  at  their  flight  from  the' cold  denials  of  want  ? 

Such  be  as  vultures  round  a  carcass,  assembled  together  for  the  feast : 

But  a  sudden  noise  scareth  them,  and  forthwith  are  they  specks  among  the 

clouds. 

There  be  few,  O  child  of  sensibility,  who  deserve  to  have  thy  confidence ; 
Yet  weep  not,  for  there  are  some,  and  such  some  live  for  thee : 
To  them  is  the  chilling  world  a  drear  and  barren  scene, 
And  gladly  seek  they  such  as  thou  art,  for  seldom  find  they  the  occasion : 
For,  though  no  man  excludeth  himself  from  the  high  capability  of  friend 

ship, 
Yet  verily  is  the  man  a  marvel  whom  truth  can  write  a  friend. 


OF   LOVE. 

THERE  is  a  fragrant  blossom,  that  maketh  glad  the  garden  of  the  heart : 
Its  root  lieth  deep ;  it  is  delicate,  yet  lasting,  as  the  lilac  crocus  of  autumn ; 
Loneliness  and  thought  are  the  dews  that  water  it  morn  and  even ; 
Memory  and  Absence  cherish  it,  as  the  balmy  breathings  of  the  south : 
Its  sun  is  the  brightness  of  affection,  and  it  bloometh  in  the  borders  of 

Hope; 

Its  companions  are  gentle  flowers,  and  the  brier  withereth  by  its  side. 
I  saw  it  budding  in  beauty ;  I  felt  the  magic  of  its  smile  ; 
The  violet  rejoiced  beneath  it,  the  rose  stooped  down  and  kissed  it ; 
And  I  thought  some  cherub  had  planted  there  a  truant  flower  of  Eden, 
As  a  bird  bringeth  foreign  seeds,  that  they  may  flourish  in  a  kindly  s;'J 
I  saw,  and  asked  not  its  name ;  I  knew  no  language  was  so  wealthy. 
Though  every  heart  of  every  clime  findeth  its  echo  within. 
And  yet  what  shall  I  say  ?    Is  a  sordid  man  capable  of— Love  ? 


OF  LOVE.  108 

Hath  a  seducer  known  A  ?     Can  an  adulterer  perceive  it  ? 

Or  he  that  seeketh  strange  women,  can  he  feel  its  purity  ? 

Or  he.  that  changeth  often,  can  he  know  its  truth  ? 

Longing  for  another's  happiness,  yet  often  destroying  its  own , 

Chaste,  and  looking  up  to  God,  as  the  fountain  of  tenderness  and  joy  ; 

Quiet,  yet  flowing  deep,  as  the  Rhine  among  rivers ; 

Lasting,  and  knowing  not  change — it  walketh  with  Truth  and  Sincerity. 

Love : — what  a  volume  in  a  word,  an  ocean  in  a  tear, 

A  seventh  heaven  in  a  glance,  a  whirlwind  in  a  sigh, 

The  lightning  in  a  touch,  a  millennium  in  a  moment : 

What  consecrated  joy  or  woe  in  blest  or  blighted  love  ! 

For  it  is  that  native  poetry  springing  up  indigenous  to  Mind, 

The  heart's  own-country  music  thrilling  all  its  chords, 

The  story  without  an  end  that  angels  throng  to  hear, 

The  word,  the  king  of  words,  carved  on  Jehovah's  heart ! 

Oh  !  call  thou  snake-eyed  malice  mercy,  call  envy  honest  praise, 

Count  selfish  craft  for  wisdom,  and  coward  treachery  for  prudence, 

Do  homage  to  blaspheming  unbelief  as  to  bold  and  free  philosophy, 

And  estimate  the  recklessness  of  license  as  the  right  attribute  of  liberty,— - 

But  with  the  world,  thou  friend  and  scholar,  stain  not  this  pure  name  ; 

Nor  suffer  the  majesty  of  Love  to  be  likened  to  the  meanness  of  desire : 

For  Love  is  no  more  such,  than  seraphs'  hymns  are  discord, 

And  such  is  no  more  Love,  than  ./Etna's  breath  is  summer 

Love  is  a  sweet  idolatry,  enslaving  all  the  soul, 

A  mighty  spiritual  force,  warring  with  the  dullness  of  matter, 

An  angel-mind  breathed  into  a  mortal,  though  fallen,  yet  how  beautiful  2 

All  the  devotion  of  the  heart  in  all  its  depth  and  grandeur. 

Behold  that  pale  geranium,  pent  within  the  cottage  window  ; 

How  yearningly  it  stretcheth  to  the  light  its  sickly  long-stalked  leaves, 

How  it  straineth  upward  to  the  sun,  coveting  his  sweet  influences, 

How  real  a  living  sacrifice  to  the  God  of  all  its  worship ! 

Such  is  the  soul  that  loveth ;  and  so  the  rose-tree  of  affection 

Bendeth  its  every  leaf  to  look  on  those  dear  eyes, 

Its  every  blushing  petal  basketh  in  their  light, 

And  all  its  gladness,  all  its  life,  is  hanging  on  their  love. 

If  the  love  of  the  heart  is  blighted,  it  buddeth  not  again ; 


A34  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

If  that  pleasant  song  is  forgotten,  it  is  to  be  learnt  no  more : 

Yet  often  will  thought  look  back,  and  weep  over  early  affection ; 

And  the  dim  notes  of  that  pleasant  song  will  be  heard  as  a  reproachful 

spirit, 

Moaning  in  ^Eoh'an  strains  over  the  desert  of  the  heart, 
Where  the  hot  siroccos  of  the  world  have  withered  its  one  oasis. 


OF    MARRIAGE. 

SEEK  a  good  wife  of  thy  God,  for  she  is  the  best  gift  of  his  providence ; 

Yet  ask  not  in  bold  confidence  that  which  he  hath  not  promised. 

Thou  knowest  not  his  good-will : — be  thy  prayer  then  submissive  there 
unto ; 

And  leave  thy  petition  to  his  mercy,  assured  that  he  will  deal  well  with 
thee. 

If  thou  art  to  have  a  wife  of  thy  youth,  she  is  now  living  on  the  earth ; 

Therefore  think  of  her,  and  pray  for  her  weal ;  yea,  though  thou  hast  not 
seen  her. 

They  that  love  early  become  like-minded,  and  the  tempter  touches  them  not : 

They  grow  up  leaning  on  each  other,  as  the  olive  and  vine. 

Youth  longeth  for  a  kindred  spirit,  and  yearneth  for  a  heart  that  can  com- 
mune with  his  own ; 

He  meditateth  night  and  day,  doting  on  the  image  of  his  fancy. 

Take  heed  that  what  charmeth  thee  is  real,  nor  springeth  of  thine  own 
imagination ; 

And  suffer  not  trifles  to  win  thy  love  ;  for  a  wife  is  thine  unto  death. 

The  harp  and  the  voice  may  thrill  thee, — sound  may  enchant  thine  ear, 

But  consider  thou,  the  hand  will  wither,  and  the  sweet  notes  turn  to  dis- 
cord : 

| 

The  eye,  so  brilliant  at  even,  may  be  red  with  sorrow  in  the  morning ; 
And  the  sylph-like  form  of  elegance  must  writhe  in  the  crampings  of  pain. 

()  happy  lot,  and  hallowed,  even  as  the  joy  of  angels, 
Where  the  golden  chain  of  go3liness  is  entwined  with  the  roses  of  love : 
But  beware,  thou  seem  not  to  be  holy,  to  win  favour  in  the  eyes  of  a  crea- 
ture, 


OF  MARRIAGE.  106 

For  the  guilt  of  the  hypocrite  is  deadly,  and  wmneth  thee  wrath  elsewhere. 

The  idol  of  thy  heart  is,  as  thou,  a  probationary  sojourner  on  earth; 

Therefore  be  chary  of  her  soul,  for  that  is  a  jewel  in  her  casket. 

Let  her  be  a  child  of  God,  that  she  bring  with  her  a  blessing  to  thy  house,— 

A  blessing  above  riches,  and  leading  contentment  in  its  train : 

Let  her  be  an  heir  of  heaven;  so  shall  she  help  thee  on  thy  way ; 

For  those  who  are  one  in  faith,  fight  double-handed  against  evil. 

Take  heed  lest  she  love  thee  before  God ;  that  she  be  not  an  idolater : 

Yet  see  thou  that  she  love  thee  well:  for  her  heart  is  the  heart  of  woman ; 

And  the  triple  nature  of  humanity  must  be  bound  by  a  triple  chain, 

For  soul  and  mind  and  body — godliness,  esteem,  and  affection. 

How  beautiful  is  modesty !  it  winneth  upon  all  beholders  : 

But  a  word  or  a  glance  may  destroy  the  pure  love  that  should  have  been 

for  thee. 

Affect  not  to  despise  beauty ;  no  one  is  freed  from  its  dominion  : 
But  regard  it  not  a  pearl  of  price  : — it  is  fleeting  as  the  bow  in  the  ciouds. 
If  the  character  within  be  gentle,  it  often  hath  its  index  in  the  countenance : 
The  soft  smile  of  a  loving  face  is  better  than  splendour  tliat  fadeth  quickly. 
When  thou  choosest  a  wife,  think  not  only  of  thyself, 
But  of  those  God  may  give  thee  of  her,  that  they  reproach  thee  not  for 

their  being ; 

Se£  that  he  hath  given  her  health,  lest  thou  lose  her  early  and  weep ; 
See  that  she  springeth  of  a  wholesome  stock,  that  tiiy  little  ones  perish 

not  before  thee : 

For  many  a  fair  skin  hath  covered  a  mining  disease, 
And  many  a  laughing  cheek  been  bright  with  the  glare  of  madness. 

Mark  the  converse  of  one  thou  lovest,  that  it  be  simple  and  sincere  ? 

For  an  artful  or  false  woman  shall  set  thy  piKow  with  thorns. 

Observe  her  deportment  with  others,  when  she  thinketh  not  that  thou  art 

nigh, 

For  with  thee  will  the  blushes  of  love  conceal  the  true  colour  of  her  mind 
Hath  she  learning  ?  it  is  good,  so  that  modesty  go  with  it : 
Hath  she  wisdom  ?  it  is  precious,  but  beware  that  thou  exceed ; 
For  woman  must  be  subject,  and  the  true  mastery  is  of  the  mind. 
Be  joined  to  thine  equal  in  rank,  or  the  foot  of  pride  will  kick  at  thee : 
And  look  not  only  for  riches,  lest  thou  be  mated  with  misery : 
Marry  not  without  means ;  for  so  shouldst  thou  tempt  Providence ; 


106  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

But  wait  not  for  more  than  enough ;  for  marriage  is  the  duty  of  most  men; 
Grievous  indeed  must  be  the  burden  that  shall  outweigh  innocence  and 

health, 

And  a  well-assorted  marriage  hath  not  many  cares. 
In  the  day  of  thy  joy  consider  the  poor  ^  thou  shalt  reap  a  rich  narvest  of 

blessing ; 

For  these  be  the  pensioners  of  One  who  fflleth  thy  cup  with  pleasures  ; 
In  the  day  of  thy  joy  be  thankful ;  He  hath  well  deserved  thy  praise  ; 
Mean  and  selfish  is  the  heart  that  seeketh  him  only  in  sorrow. 
For  her  sake,  who  leaneth  on  thine  arm,  court  not  the  notice  of  the  world, 
And  remember  that  sober  privacy  is  comelier  than  public  display. 
If  thou  marriest,  thou  art  allied  unto  strangers  :  see  they  be  not  such  as 

shame  thee : 
If  thou  marriest,  thou  leavest  thine  own ;  see  that  it  be  not  done  in  anger. 

Bride  and  bridegroom,  pilgrims  of  life,  henceforward  to  travel  together, 
Is  this  the  beginning  of  your  journey,  neglect  not  the  favour  of  Heaven : 
And  at  eventide  kneel  ye  together,  that  your  joy  be  not  unhallowed  : 
Angels  that  are  round  you  shall  be  glad,  those  loving  ministers  of  mercy, 
And  the  richest  blessings  of  your  God  shall  be  poured  on  his  favoured 

children. 

Marriage  is  a  figure  and  an  earnest  of  holier  things  unseen, 
And  reverence  well  becometh  the  symbol  of  dignity  and  glory. 
Keep  thy  heart  pure,  lest  thou  do  dishonour  to  thy  state  ; 
Selfishness  is  base  and  hateful  ;  but  love  considereth  not  itself. 
The  wicked  turneth  good  into  evil,  for  his  mind  is  warped  within  him : 
But  the  heart  of  the  righteous  is  chaste ;  his  conscience  casteth  off  sin. 
If  thou  wilt  be  loved,  render  implicit  confidence  ; 
If  thou  wouldst  not  suspect,  receive  full  confidence  in  turn : 
For  where  trust  is  not  reciprocal,  the  love  that  trusted  withereth. 
Hide  not  your  grief  nor  your  gladness  ;  be  open  one  with  the  other , 
Let  bitterness  be  strange  unto  your  tongues,  but  sympathy  a  dweller  ia 

your  hearts : 

Imparting  halveth  the  evils,  while  it  doubleth  the  pleasures  of  life, 
But  sorrows  breed  and  thicken  in  the  gloomy  bosom  of  Reserve. 

Young  wife,  be  not  forward,  nor  forget  that  modesty  becometh  thee: 
If  it  be  discarded  now,  who  will  not  hold  it  feigned  before  ? 
But  be  not  as  a  timid  girl, — there  ia  honour  due  to  thine  estate  j 


OF  EDUCATION.  107 

A  matron's  modesty  is  dignified :  she  blusheth  not,  neither  is  she  bold. 
Be  kind  to  the  friends  :  f  thine  husband,  for  the  love  they  have  to  him : 
And  gently  bear  with  his  infirmities ;  hast  thou  no  need  of  his  forbearance  ? 
Be  not  always  in  each  other's  company ;  it  is  often  good  to  be  aione  ; 
And  if  there  be  too  much  sameness,  ye  cannot  but  grow  weary  of  each 

other: 

Ye  have  each  a  soul  to  be  nourished,  and  a  mind  to  be  taught  in  wisdom, 
Therefore,  as  accountable  for  time,  help  one  another  to  improve  it. 
If  ye  feel  love  to  decline,  track  out  quickly  the  secret  cause ; 
Let  it  not  rankle  for  a  day,  but  confess  and  bewail  it  together : 
Speedily  seek  to  be  reconciled,  for  love  is  the  life  of  marriage ; 
And  be  ye  co-partners  in  triumph,  conquering  the  peevishness  of  self. 

Let  no  one  have  thy  confidence,  O  wife,  saving  thy  husband : 

Have  not  a  friend  more  intimate,  O  husband,  than  thy  wife. 

In  the  joy  of  a  well-ordered  home,  be  warned  that  this  is  not  your  rest; 

For  the  substance  to  come  may  be  forgotten  in  the  present  beauty  of  the 

shadow. 

If  ye  are  blessed  with  children,  ye  have  a  fearful  pleasure, 
A  deeper  care  and  a  higher  joy,  and  the  range  of  your  existence  ia 

widened. 

If  God  in  wisdom  refuse  them,  thank  him  for  an  unknown  mercy : 
For  how  can  ye  tell  if  they  might  be  a  blessing  or  a  curse  ? 
Yet  ye  may  pray,  like  Hannah,  simply  dependent  on  his  will : 
Resignation  sweeteneth  the  cup,  but  impatience  dasheth  it  with  vinegar. 
Now  this  is  the  sum  of  the  matter : — if  ye  will  be  happy  in  marriage, 
Confide,  love,  and  be  patient :  be  faithful,  firm,  and  holy. 


OF    EDUCATION. 

A  BABE  in  a  house  is  a  well-spring  of  pleasure,  a  messenger  of  peace  and 

love : 

A  resting-place  for  innocence  on  earth ;  a  link  between  angels  and  men : 
Yet  is  it  a  talent  of  trust,  a  loan  to  be  rendered  back  with  interest ; 
A  delight,  but  redolent  of  care ;  honey-sweet,  but  lacking  not  the  bitter. 
For  character  groweth  day  by  day,  and  all  things  aid  it  in  unfolding, 


108  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  the  bent  unto  good  or  evil  may  be  given  in  the  hours  of  infancy  • 
Scratch  the  green  rind  of  a  sapling,  or  wantonly  twist  it  in  the  soil, 
The  scarred  and  crooked  oak  will  tell  of  thee  for  centuries  to  come ; 
Even  so  mayst  thou  guide  the  mind  to  good,  or  lead  it  to  the  marrings 

of  evil, 

For  disposition  is  builded  up  by  the  fashioning  of  first  impressions : 
Wherefore,  though  the  voice  of  Instruction  waiteth  for  the  ear  of  reason, 
Yet  with  his  mother's  milk  the  young  child  drinketh  Education. 
Patiencce  is  the  first  great  lesson  ;  he  may  learn  it  at  the  breast ; 
And  the  habit  of  obedience  and  trust  may  be  grafted  on  his  mind  hi  the 

cradle : 

Hold  the  little  hands  in  prayer,  teach  the  weak  knees  their  kneeling ; 
Let  him  see  thee  speaking  to  thy  God ;  he  will  not  forget  it  afterward : 
When  old  and  gray  will  he  feelingly  remember  a  mother's  tender  piety, 
And  the  touching  recollection  of  her  prayers  shall  arrest  the  strong  man 

in  his  sin. 

Select  not  to  nurse  thy  darling  one  that  may  taint  his  innocence, 
For  example  is  a  constant  monitor,  and  good  seed  will  die  among  the  tares. 
The  arts  of  a  strange  servant  have  spoiled  a  gentle  disposition : 
Mother,  let  him  learn  of  thy  lips,  and  be  nourished  at  thy  breast. 
Character  is  mainly  moulded  by  the  cast  of  the  minds  that  surround  it : 
Let  then  the  playmates  of  thy  little  one  be  not  other  than  thy  judgment 

shall  approve ; 

For  a  child  is  in  a  new  world,  and  learneth  somewhat  every  moment, 
His  eye  is  quick  to  observe,  his  memory  storeth  in  secret, 
His  ear  is  greedy  of  knowledge,  and  his  mind  is  plastic  as  soft  wax. 
Beware  then  that  he  heareth  what  is  good,  that  he  feedeth  not  on  ev3 

maxims, 

For  the  seeds  of  first  instructions  are  dropped  into  the  deepest  furrows. 
That  which  immemorial  use  hath  sanctioned,  seemeth  to  be  right  and  true  j 
Therefore,  let  him  never  have  to  recollect  the  time  when  good  things  were 

strangers  to  his  thought. 

Strive  not  to  centre  in  thyself,  fond  mother,  all  his  love  ; 
Nay,  do  not  thou  so  selfishly,  but  enlarge  his  heart  for  others ; 
Use  him  to  sympathy  betimes,  that  he  learn  to  be  sad  with  the  afflicted ; 
And  check  not  a  child  in  his  merriment, — should  not  his  morning  be  sunny? 
Give  him  not  all  his  desire,  so  shall  thou  strengthen  him  in  hope ; 
Neither  stop  with  indulgence  the  fountain  of  his  tears,  so  shall  he  fear  thy 

firmness. 


OF  EDUCATION.  109 

Above  all  things  graft  on  him  subjection,  yea,  in  the  veriest  trifle  ; 
Courtesy  to  all,  reverence  to  some,  and  to  thee  unanswering  obedience. 

Read  thou  first,  and  well  approve,  the  books  thou  givest  to  thy  child ; 
But  remember  the  weakness  of  his  thought,  and  that  wisdom  for  him  must 

be  diluted ; 

In  the  honied  waters  of  infant  tales,  let  liim  taste  the  strong  wine  of  truth : 
Pathetic  stories  soften  the  heart ;  but  legends  of  terror  breed  midnight 

misery ; 
Fairy  fictions  cram  the  mind  with  folly,  and  knowledge  of  evil  tempteth  to 

like  evil : 

Be  not  loth  to  curb  imagination,  nor  be  fearful  that  truths  will  depress  it ; 
And  for  evil,  he  will  learn  it  soon  enough ;  be  not  thou  the  devil's  envoy. 
Induce  not  precocity  of  intellect,  for  so  shouldst  thou  nourish  vanity  ; 
Neither  can  a  plant,  forced  in  the  hot-bed,  stand  against  the  frozen  breath 

of  winter. 
The  mind  is  made  wealthy  by  ideas,  but  the  multitude  of  words  is  a 

clogging  weight : 
Therefore  be  understood  in  thy  teaching,  and  instruct  to  the  measure  of 

capacity. 

Analogy  is  milk  for  babes,  but  abstract  truths  are  strong  meat ; 
Precepts  and  rules  are  repulsive  to  a  child,  but  happy  illustration  winneth 

him : 
In  vain  shaft  thou  preach  of  industry  and  prudence,  till  he  learn  of  (he  bee 

and  the  ant ; 
Dimly  will  he  think  of  his  soul,  till  the  acorn  and  chrysalis  have  taught 

him; 

He  will  fear  God  in  thunder,  and  worship  his  loveliness  in  flowers ; 
And  parables  shall  charm  his  heart,  while  doctrines  seem  dead  mystery ; 
Faith  shall  he  learn  of  the  husbandman  casting  good  corn  into  the  soil ; 
And  if  thou  train  him  to  trust  thee,  he  will  not  withhold  Ms  reliance  from 

the  Lord. 
Fearest  thou  the  dark,  poor  child  ?    I  would  not  have  thee  left  to  thy 

terrors ; 

Darkness  is  the  semblance  of  evil,  and  nature  regardeth  it  with  dread : 
Yet  know  thy  father's  God  is  with  thee  still,  to  guard  thee : 
It  is  a  simple  lesson  of  dependence,  let  thy  tost  mind  anchor  upon  Him. 
Did  a  sudden  noise  affright  thee  ?  lo,  tliis  or  that  hath  caused  it : 
Things  undefined  are  full  of  dread,  and  stagger  stouter  nerves. 


UO  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  seeds  of  misery  and  madness  have  been  sowed  in  the  nights  of  in- 
fancy : 

Therefore  be  careful  that  ghastly  fears  be  not  the  night  companions  of  thy 
child. 

Lo,  thou  art  a  land-mark  on  a  hill ;  thy  little  ones  copy  thee  in  all  things. 

Let,  then,  thy  religion  be  perfect :  so  shalt  thou  be  honoured  in  thy  house* 

Be  instructed  in  all  wisdom,  and  communicate  that  thou  knowest, 

Otherwise  thy  learning  is  hidden,  and  thus  thou  seemest  unwise. 

A  sluggard  hatli  no  respect ;  an  epicure  commandeth  not  reverence  j         ' 

Meanness  is  always  despicable,  and  folly  provoketh  contempt. 

Those  parents  are  best  honoured  whose  characters  best  deserve  it ; 

Show  me  a  shild  undutiful,  I  shall  know  where  to  look  for  a  foolish  father. 

Never  hath  a  father  done  his  duty,  and  lived  to  be  despised  of  his  son. 

But  how  can  that  son  reverence  an  example  he  dare  not  follow  ? 

Should  he  imitate  thee  in  thine  evil  ?  his  scorn  is  thy  rebuke. 

Nay,  but  bring  him  up  aright,  in  obedience  to  God  and  to  thee  ; 

Begin  betimes,  lest  thou  fail  of  his  fear ;  and  with  judgment,  that  thou 

lose  not  hia  love  : 

Herein  use  good  discretion,  and  govern  not  all  alike, 
Yet,  perhaps,  the  fault  will  be  in  thee,  if  kindness  prove  not  all-sufficient . 
By  kindness,  the  wolf  and  the  zebra  become  docile  as  the  spaniel  and  the 

horse : 

The  kite  feedeth  with  the  starling,  under  the  law  of  kindness  : 
That  law  shall  tame  the  fiercest,  bring  down  the  battlements  of  pride, 
Cherish  the  weak,  control  the  strong,  and  win  the  fearful  spirit. 
Be  obeyed  when  thou  commandest ;  but  command  not  often  : 
Let  thy  carriage  be  the  gentleness  of  love,  not  the  stern  front  of  tyranny. 
Make  not  one  child  a  warning  to  another ;  but  chide  the  offender  apart : 
For  self-conceit  and  wounded  pride  rankle  like  poisons  in  the  soul. 
A  mild  rebuke  in  the  season  of  calmness,  is  better  than  a  rod  in  the  heat 

of  passion, 

Nevertheless  spare  not,  if  thy  word  hath  passed  for  punishment ;  f 

Let  not  thy  child  see  thee  humbled,  nor  learn  to  think  thee  false  ; 
Suffer  none  to  reprove  thee  before  him,  and  reprove  not  thine  own  mu* 

poses  by  change ; 

Yet  speedily  turn  thou  again,  and  reward  him  where  thou  canst, 
For  kind  encouragement  in  good  cutteth  at  the  roots  of  evil. 


OF  EDUCATION.  Ill 

Drive  not  a  timid  infant  from  his  home,  in  the  early  spring-time  of  his  life, 
Commit  not  that  treasure  to  an  liireling,  nor  wrench  the  young  heart's 

fibres : 

In  his  helplessness  leave  him  not  alone,  a  stranger  among  strange  children, 
Where  affection  longeth  for  thy  love,  counting  the  dreary  hours ; 
Where  religion  is  made  a  terror,  and  innocence  weepeth  unheard  ; 
Where  oppression  grindeth  without  remedy,  and  cruelty  delighteth  in 

smiting. 

Wherefore  comply  with  an  evil  fashion  ?    Is  it  not  to  spare  thee  trouble  ? 
€an  he  gather  no  knowledge  at  thy  mouth  ?  Wilt  thou  yield  thine  honour 

to  another  ? 

Wliat  can  he  gain  in  learning,  to  equal  what  he  loseth  in  innocence  ? 
Alas  !  for  the  price  above  gold,  by  which  such  learning  cometh ! 
For  emulative  pride  and  envy  are  the  specious  idols  of  the  diligent, 
Oaths  and  foul-mouthed  sin  burn  in  the  language  of  the  idle : 
Bolder  in  that  mimic  world  of  boys  stareth  brazen-fronted  vice, 
Than  thereafter  in  the  haunts  of  men,  where  society  doth  shame  her  into 

corners. 

My  soul,  lock  well  around  thee,  ere  thou  give  thy  timid  infant  unto  sorrows. 
There  be  many  that  say,  We  were  happiest  in  days  long  past, 
When  our  deepest  care  was  an  ill-conned  book, 
And  when  we  sported  in  that  merry  sunshine  of  our  life, 
Sadness  a  stranger  to  the  heart,  and  cheerfulness  its  gay  inhabitant. 
True,  ye  are  now  less  pure,  and  therefore  are  more  wretched : 
But  have  ye  quite  forgotten  how  sorely  ye  travailed  at  your  tasks, 
How  childish  griefs  and  disappointments  bowed  down  the  childish  mind  ? 
How  sorrow  sat  upon  your  pillow,  and  terror  hath  waked  thee  up  betimes, 
Dreading  the  strict  hand  of  justice,  that  will  not  wait  for  a  reason, 
Or  the  whims  of  petty  tyrants,  children  like  yourselves, 
Or  the  pestilent  extract  of  evil  poured  into  the  ear  of  innocence  ? 
Behold  the  coral  island,  fresh  from  the  floor  of  the  Atlantic, 
It  is  dinted  by  every  ripple,  and  a  soft  wave  can  smooth  its  surface ; 
But  soon  its  substance  hardeneth  in  the  winds  and  tropic  sun, 
And  weakly  the  foaming  billows  break  against  its  adamantine  wall  *, 
Even  thus,  though  sin  and  care  dash  upon  the  firmness  of  manhood, 
The  timid  child  is  wasted  most  by  his  petty  tfoubles  ; 
And  seldom,  when  life  is  mature,  and  the  strength  proportioned  to  the 

burden, 
Will  the  feeling  mind,  that  can  remember  acknowledge  to  deeper  anguish, 


112  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Than  when,  as  a  stranger  and  a  little  one,  the  heart  first  ached  wftfc 

anxiety, 
And  the  sprouting  buds  of  sensibility  were  bruised  by  the  harshness  of  a 

school. 

My  soul,  look  well  around  thee,  ere  thon  give  thine  infant  unto  sorrows. 
Yet  there  be  boisterous  tempers,  stout  nerves,  and  stubborn  hearts, 
And  there  is  a  riper  season,  when  the  mind  is  well  disciplined  in  good, 
And  a  time,  when  youth  may  be  bettered  by  the  wholesome  occasions  of 

knowledge, 
Wliich  rarely  will  it  meet  with  so  well  as  among  the  congregation  of  his 

fellows. 

Only  for  infancy,  fond  mother,  rend  not  those  first  affections ; 
Only  for  the  sensitive  and  timorous,  consign  not  thy  darling  unto  misery. 

A  man  looketli  on  his  little  one,  as  a  being  of  better  hope  ; 

In  himself  ambition  is  dead,  but  it  hath  a  resurrection  in  his  son  ; 

That  vein  is  yet  untried, — and  who  can  tell  if  it  be  not  golden  ? 

While  his,  well-nigh  worked  out,  never  yielded  aught  but  lead : 

And  thus  is  he  hurt  more  sorely,  if  his  wishes  are  defeated  there ; 

He  has  staked  his  all  upon  a  throw,  and  lo !  the  dice  have  foiled  him. 

All  ways,  and  at  all  times,  men  follow  on  in  flocks, 

And  the  rife  epidemic  of  the  day  shall  tincture  the  stream  of  education ; 

Fashion  is  a  foolish  watcher  posted  at  the  tree  of  knowledge, 

Who  plucketh  its  unripe  fruit  to  pelt  away  the  birds : 

But  for  its  golden  apples, — they  dry  upon  the  boughs, 

And  few  have  the  courage  or  the  wisdom  to  eat  in  spite  of  fashion : 

One  while,  the  fever  is  to  learn,  what  none  will  be  wiser  for  knowing, 

Exploded  errors  in  extinct  tongues,  and  occasions  for  their  use  are  small  j 

And  the  bright  morning  of  life,  for  years  of  misspent  time. 

Wasted  in  following  sounds,  hath  tracked  up  little  sense, 

Till  at  noon  a  man  is  thrown  upon  the  world,  with  a  mind  expert  in  trifles, 

Having  yet  every  thing  to  iearn,  that  can  nake  him  good  or  useful : 

The  curious  spirit  of  youth  is  crammed  with  unwholesome  garbage, 

While  starving  for  .the  mother's  milk  the  breasts  of  nature  yield ; 

And  high-coloured  fables  of  depravity  lure  with  their  classic  varnish, 

While  truth  is  holding  out  in  vain  her  mirror  much  despised. 

Of  olden  time,  the  fashion  'was  for  arms,  to  make  an  accomplished  slayer, 
And  set  gregarious  man  a-tilting  with  his  fellows ; 


OF  EDUCATION.  113 

Thereafter,  occult  sciences,  and  mystic  arts,  and  symbols, 

How  to  exorcise  a  wizard,  and  how  to  lay  a  ghost ; 

Anon,  all  for  gallantry  and  presence,  the  minuet,  the  palfrey,  and  the  foil, 

And  the  grand  aim  of  education  was  to  produce  a  coxcomb ; 

Soon  came  scholastical  dispute  with  hydra-headed  argument, 

And  the  true  philosophy  of  mind  confounded  in  a  labyrinth  of  .words  : 

Then,  the  Pantheqn,  and  its  orgies,  initiating  docile  childhood, 

While  diligent  youth  strove  hard  to  render  his  all  unto  Caesar ; 

And  now  is  seen  the  passion  for  utility,  when  all  tilings  are  accounted  by 

their  price, 

And  the  wisdom  of  the  wise  is  busied  in  hatching  golden  eggs. 
Perchance,  not  many  moons  to  come,  and  all  will  again  be  for  abstrusity, 
Unravelling  the  figured  veil  that  hideth  Egypt's  gods ; 
Or  in  those  strange  Avatars  seeking  benignant  Vishnu, 
Kali  and  Kamala  the  fair,  and  much-invoked  Ganesa.  (ar) 

The  mines  of  knowledge  are  oft  laid  bare  through  the  forked  hazel  wand 

of  chance, 

And  in  a  mountain  of  quartz  we  find  a  grain  of  gold. 
Of  a  truth  it  were  well  to  know  all  things,  and  to  learn  them  all  at  once, 
And  what,  though  mortal  insufficiency  attain  to  small  knowledge  of,  any  ? 
Man  loveth  exclusions,  delighting  in  the  sterile  trodden  path, 
While  the  broad  green  meadow  is  jewelled  with  wild  flowers : 
And  whether,  is  it  better  with  the  many  to  follow  a  beaten  track, 
Or  by  eccentric  wanderings  to  cull  unheeded  sweets  ? 

When  his  reason  yieldeth  fruit,  make  thy  child  thy  friend ; 

For  a  filial  friend  is  a  double  gain,  a  diamond  set  in  gold. 

As  an  infant,  thy  mandate  was  enough,  but  now  let  him  see  thy  reasons ; 

Confide  in  him,  but  with  discretion  ;  and  bend  a  willing  ear  to  his  questions. 

More  to  thee  than  to  all  beside,  let  him  owe  good  counsel  and  good 

guidance : 

Let  him  feel  his  pursuits  have  an  interest,  more  to  thee  than  to  all  beside. 
Watch  his  native  capacities ;  nourish  that  which  suiteth  him  the  readiest ; 
And  cultivate  early  those  good  inclinations  wherein  thou  fearest  he  is  most 

lacking : 

Is  he  phlegmatic  and  desponding  ?  let  small  successes  comfort  his  hope ; 
Is  he  obstinate  and  sanguine  ?  let  petty  crosses  accustom  him  to  life. 
Showeth  he  a  sordid  spirit  ?  be  quick  and  teach  him  gene/osity ; 


114  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Inclineth  he  to  liberal  excess  ?  prove  to  him  how  hard  it  is  to  earn. 
Gather  to  thy  hearth  such  friends  as  are  worthy  of  honour  and  attention, 
For  the  company  a  man  chooseth  is  a  visible  index  of  his  heart : 
But  let  not  the  pastor  whom  thou  hearest  be  too  much  a  familiar  in  thy 

house, 

For  thy  children  may  see  his  infirmities,  and  learn  to  cavil  at  his  teaching. 
It  is  well  to  take  hold  on  occasions,  and  render  indirect  instruction ; 
It  is  better  to  teach  upon  a  system,  and  reap  the  wisdom  of  books  : 
The  history  of  nations  yieldeth  grand  outlines  :  of  persons,  minute  details : 
Poetry  is  polish  to  the  mind,  and  high  abstractions  cleanse  it. 
Consider  the  station  of  thy  son,  and  breed  him  to  his  fortune  with  judg- 
ment: 
The  rich  may  profit  in  much  which  would  bring  small  advantage  to  the 

poor. 

But  with  all  thy  care  for  thy  son,  with  all  thy  strivings  for  his  welfare, 
Expect  disappointment,  and  look  for  pain :  for  he  is  of  an  evil  stock,  and 
will  grieve  thee. 


OF    TOLERANCE. 

A  WISE  man  in  a  crowded  street  winneth  his  way  with  gentleness,  • 

Nor  rudely  pusheth  aside  the  stranger  that  standeth  in  his  path ; 

He  knoweth  that  blind  hurry   will   but  hinder,   stirring  up  contention 

against  him, 

Yet  holdeth  he  steadily  right  on,  with  his  face  to  the  scope  of  his  pursuit : 
Even  so,  in  the  congress  of  opinions,  the  bustling  highway  of  intelligence, 
Each  man  should  ask  of  his  neighbour,  and  yield  to  him  again  concession. 
Terms  ill  defined,  and  forms  misunderstood,  and  customs,  where  their 

reasons  are  unknown, 

Have  stirred  up  many  zealous  souls  to  fight  against  imaginary  giants  : 
But  wisdom  will  hear  the  matter  ^mt,  and  often,  by  keenness  of  perception, ' 
Will  find  in  strange  disguise  the  precious  truth  he  seeketh  : 
So  he  leaveth  unto  prejudice  or  taste  the  garb  and  the  manner  of  her « 

presence, 

Content  to  see  so  nigh  the  mistress  of  his  love. 
There  is  no  similitude  in  nature  that  owneth  not  also  to  a  difference, 


OF  TOLERANCE.  115 

Yea,  no  two  berries  are  alike,  though  twins  upon  one  stem ; 

No  drop  in  the  ocean,  no  pebble  on  the  beach,  no  leaf  in  the  forest,  hath 

its  counterpart, 

No  mind  in  its  dwelling  of  mortality,  no  spirit  in  the  world  unseen : 
And  therefore,  since  capacity  and  essence  differ  alike  with  accident, 
None  but  a  bigot  partisan  will  hope  for  impossible  unity. 
Wilt  thou  ensue  peace,  nor  buffet  with  the  waters  of  contention, 
Wilt  thou  be  counted  wise  and  gain  the  love  of  men,  •    : 

Let  unobtruded  error  escape  the  frown  of  censure, 
Nor  lift  the  glass  of  truth  alway  before  thy  fellows  : 
I  say  not,  compromise  the  right,  I  would  not  have  thee  countenance  the 

wrong, 

But  hear  with  charitable  heart  the  reasons  of  an  honest  judgment ; 
For  thou  also  hast  erred,  and  knowest  not  when  thou  art  most  right ; 
Nor  whether  to-morrow's  wisdom  may  not  prove  thee  simple  to-day : 
Perchance  thou  art  eluding  in  another  what  once  thou  wast  thyself; 
Perchance  thou  sharply  reprovest  what  i  nou  wilt  be  hereafter. 
A  man  that  can  render  a  reason,  is  a  man  worthy  of  an  answer ; 
But  he  that  argueth  for  victory,  deserveth  not  the  tenderness  of  Truth. 

Whiles  a  man  liveth  he  may  mend  :  count  not  thy  brother  reprobate ; 
When  he  is  dead  his  chance  is  gone :  remember  not  his  faults  in  bitterness. 
A  man,  till  he  dieth,  is  immortal  in  thy  sight ;  and  then  he  is  as  nothing ; 
Make  not  the  living  thy  foe,  nor  take  weak  vengeance  of  the  dead ; 
For  life  is  as  a  game  of  chess,  where  least  causeth  greatest, 
And  an  ill  move  bringeth  loss,  and  a  pawn  may  insure  victory. 
Dost  thou  suspect  ?  seek  out  certainty  :  for  now,  by  self-inflicted  pain, 
Or  ill-directed  wrath,  thou  wrongest  thyself  or  thy  neighbour : 
Suspicion  is  an  early  leason,  taught  in  the  school  of  experience, 
Neither  shall  thou  easily  unlearn  it,  though  charity  ply  thee  with  her 

preaching ; 

Yet  look  thou  well  for  reasons,  or  ever  mistrust  hath  marred  thee, 
Or  fear  curdled  thy  blood,  or  jealousy  goaded  thee  to  madness : 
For  a  look,  or  a  word,  or  an  act,  may  be  taken  well  or  ill, 
As  construed  by  the  latitude  of  love,  or  the  closeness  of  cold  suspicion. 

Better  is  the  wrong  with  sincerity,  rather  than  the  right  with  falsehood : 
And  a  prudent  man  will  not  lay  siege  to  the  stronghold  of  ignorant  bigotry. 
To  unsettle  a  weak  mind  were  an  easy  inglorious  triumph, 


116  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  a  strong  cause  taketh  little  count  of  the  worthless  .suffrage  of  a  fool : 

JJghtly  he  held  to  the  wrong,  loosely  will  he  cling  to  the  right ; 

Weakness  is  the  essence  of  his  mind,  and  the  reed  cannot  yield  an  acorn. 

Dogged  obstinacy  is  oftentimes  the  buttress  that  proppeth  an  unstable  spirit, 

But  a  candid  man  blusheth  not  to  own  he  is  wiser  to-day  than  yesterday. 

A  man  of  little  wisdom  is  a  sage  among  fools ; 

But  himself  is  chief  among  the  fools,  if  he  look  for  admiration  from  them. 

A  heresy  is  an  evil  thing,  for  its  shame  is  its  pride  : 

Its  necessary  difference  of  error  is  the  character  it  most  esteemeth  : 

Give  a  man  all  things  short  of  liberty,  thou  shalt  have  no  thanks, 

And  little  wilt  thou  speed  with  thine  opponent,  by  proving  points  he  will 

concede. 

The  tost  sand  darkeneth  the  waves  ;  and  clear  had  been  the  pages  of  truth, 
Had  not  the  glosses  of  men  obscured  the  simplicity  of  faith. 
In  ah1  things  consider  thine  own  ignorance,  and  gladly  take  occasion  to  be 

taught ; 

But  suffer  not  excess  of  liberality  to  neutralize  thy  mental  independence. 
The  faults  and  follies  of  most  men  make  their  deaths  a  gain ; 
But  thou  also  art  a  man,  full  of  faults  and  follies  ; 
Therefore  sorrow  for  the  dead,  or  none  shall  weep  for  thee, 
For  the  measure  of  charity  thou  dealest,  shall  be  poured  into  thine  own 

bosom. 

That  which  vexeth  thee  now,  provoking  thee  to  hate  thy  brother, 
Bear  with  it ;  the  annoyance  passeth,  and  may  not  return  for  ever : 
The  same  combinations  and  results  which  aggravate  thy  soul  to-day, 
May  not  meet  again  for  centuries  in  the  kaleidoscope  of  circumstance ; 
For  men  and  matters  change,  new  elements  mixing  in  continually, 
And,  as  with  chemical  magic,  the  sour  is  transmuted  into  sweetness, 
A  little  explained,  a  little  endured,  a  little  passed  over  as  a  foible, 
And,  lo,  the  jagged  atoms  fit  like  smooth  mosaic. 
Thou  canst  not  shape  another's  mind  to  suit  thine  own  body, 
Think  not,  then,  to  be  furnishing  his  brain  with  thy  special  notions. 
Charity  walketh  with  a  high  step,  and  stumbleth  not  at  a  trifle  : 
Charity  hath  keen  eyes,  but  the  lashes  half  conceal  them  : 
Charity  is  praised  of  all,  and  fear  not  thou  that  praise, 
God  will  not  love  thee  less  ber-iuse  men  love  thee  more.(ss) 


OF  SORROW.  117 

" 

OF    SORROW. 

I  SAID,  I  will  seek  out  sorrow,  and  minister  the  balm  of  pity : 

So  I  sought  her  in  the  house  of  mourning :  but  peace  followed  in  her  train. 

Then  I  marked  her  brooding  silently  in  the  gloomy  cavern  of  Regret ; 

But  a  sunbeam  of  heavenly  hope  gleamed  on  her  folded  wing. 

So  I  turned  to  the  cabin  of  the  poor,  where  famine  dwelt  with  disease ; 

But  the  bed  of  the  sick  was  smoothed,  and  the  ploughman  whistled  at  his 

labour. 

So  I  stopped,  and  mused  within  myself,  to  remember  where  sorrow  dwelt, 
For  I  sought  to  see  her  alone,  uncomforted,  uncompanioned. 
I  went  to  the  prison,  but  penitence  was  there,  and  promise  of  better  times ; 
I  listened  at  the  madman'g  cell,  but  il  echoed  with  deluded  laughter. 
Then  I  turned  me  to  the  rich  sud  noble  '•  1  noted  the  sons  of  fashion  : 
A  smile  was  on  the  languid  cueefc,  that  mui  no  commerce  with  the  heart ; 
Unhallowed  thoughts,  like  fires,  gleamed  from  the  window  of  the  eye, 
And  sorrow  lived  with  those  whose  pleasures  add  unto  their  sins. 

Jlis  infancy  wanted  not  guilt ;  his  life  was  continued  evil : 

tie  drew  in  pride  with  his  mother's  milk,  and  a  father's  lips  taught  him 
cursing. 

I  marked  him  as  the  wayward  boy  ;  I  traced  the  dissolute  youth : 
saw  him  betray  the  innocent,  and  sarifice  affection  to  his  lust, 
saw  him  the  companion  of  knaves,  and  a  squanderer  of  ill-got  gain ; 

I  heard  him  curse  his  own  misery,  while  he  hugged  the  chains  that  galled 
him : 

For  well  had  experience  declared  the  bitterness  of  guilty  pleasure, 

But  habit,  with  its  iron  net,  involved  him  in  its  folds. 

Behind  him  lowered  the  thunder-storm,  which  the  caldron  of  his  wicked- 
ness had  brewed ; 

Before  him  was  the  smooth  steep  cliff  whose  base  is  ruin  and  despair. 

So  he  madly  rushed  on,  and  tried  to  forget  his  being : 

The  noisy  revel  and  the  low  debauch,  and  fierce  excitement  of  play, 

With  dreary  interchange  of  palling  pleasures,  filled  the  dull  round  of  ex- 
istence : 

Memory  was  to  him  as  a  foe,  so  he  flew  for  false  solace  to  the  wine-cup, 

And  stunned  his  enemy  at  even,  but  she  rent  him  as  a  giant  in  the  morn- 
•       ing. 


118  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

I  turned  aside  to  weep  ;  I  lost  him  a  little  while : 
I  looked,  and  years  had  past :  he  was  hoar  with  the  winter  of  his  age. 
And  what  was  now  his  hope  ?  where  was  the  balm  for  his  sadness  ? 
The  memory  of  the  past  was  guilt :  the  feeling  of  the  present,  remorse. 
Then  he  set  his  affections  on  gold,  he  worshipped  the  slirine  of  Mammon, 
And  to  lay  richer  gifts  before  his  idol,  he  starved  his  own  bowels  ; 
So,  the  youth  spent  in  profligacy  ended  in  the  gripings  of  want : 
The  miser  grudged  himself  husks,  to  take  deeper  vengeance  of  the  prod- 
igal. 

And  I  said,  this  is  sorrow  ;  but  pity  cannot  reach  it. 
This  is  to  be  wretched  indeed,  to  be  guilty  without  repentance 


OF    JOY. 

MY  soul  was  sickened  within  me,  so  I  sought  the  dwelling-place  of  Joy 
And  I  met  it  not  in  laughter ;  I  found  it  not  in  wealth  or  power ; 
But  I  saw  it  in  the  pleasant  home,  where  religion  smiled  upon  content, 
And  the  satisfied  ambition  of  the  heart  rejoiced  in  the  favour  of  its  God. 
Behold  the  happy  man,  his  face  is  rayed  with  pleasure, 
His  thoughts  are  of  calm  delight,  and  none  can  know  his  blessedness ; 
•  I  have  watched  him  from  his  infancy,  and  seen  him  in  the  grasp  of  death, 
Yet  never  have  I  noted  on  his  brow  the  cloud  of  desponding  sorrow. 
He  hath  knelt  beside  his  cradle ;  his  mother's  hymn  lulled  him  to  sleep : 
In  childhood  he  hath  loved  holiness,  and  drank  from  that  fountain-head  of 

peace. 

Wisdom  took  him  for  her  scholar,  guiding  his  steps  in  purity : 
He  lived  unpolluted  by  the  world ;  and  his  young  heart  hated  sin.  t 

But  he  owned  not  the  spurious  religion  engendered  of  faction  and  mo  i 

roseness,  ' 

Neither  were  the  sproutings  of  his  soul  seared  by  the  brand  of  super. 

stition. 

His  love  is  pure  and  single,  sincere,  and  knoweth  not  change : 
For  his  manhood  hath  been  blest  with  the  pleasant  choice  of  his  youth: 
Behold  hie  one  beloved,  she  leaneth  on  hie  arm, 


OF  JOY.  JJ9 

And  he  looketh  on  the  years  that  are  past,  to  review  the  dawn  of  her 
affection. 

Memory  is  sweet  unto  him  as  a  perfect  landscape  to  the  sight ; 

Each  object  is  lovely  in  itself,  but  the  whole  is  the  harmony  of  nature. 

Behold  his  little  ones  around  him,  they  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  his  smile , 

And  infant  innocence  and  joy  lighten  their  happy  faces ; 

He  is  holy,  and  they  honour  him ;  he  is  loving,  and  they  love  him ; 

He  is  consistent,  and  they  esteem  him ;  he  is  firm,  and  they  fear  him. 

His  friends  are  the  excellent  among  men ;  and  the  bands  of  their  friend- 
ship are  strong ; 

His  house  is  the  palace  of  peace :  for  the  Prince  of  Pence  is  there. 

As  the  wearied  man  to  his  couch,  as  the  thoughtful  man  to  his  musings, 

Even  so,  from  the  bustle  of  life,  he  goeth  to  his  well-ordered  home. 

And  though  he  often  sin,  he  returneth  A\  ith  weeping  eyes : 

For  he  feeleth  the  mercies  of  forgiveness^  and  gloweth  with  warmer 
gratitude. 

Thus  did  he  walk  in  happiness,  and  sorrow  was  a  stranger  to  his  soul ; 
The  light  of  affection  sunned  his  heart,  the  tear  of  the  grateful  bedewed 

his  feet, 
He  put  his  hand  with  constancy  to  good,  and  angels  knew  him  as  a 

brother, 

And  the  busy  satellites  of  evil  trembled  as  i;t  God's  ally : 
He  used  his  wealth  as  a  wise  steward,  making  him  friends  for  futurity ; 
He  bent  his  learning  to  religion,  and  religion  was  with  him  at  the  last : 
For  I  saw  him  after  many  days,  wnen  the  time  of  his  release  was  come. 
And  I  longed  for  a  congregated  world,  to  behold  that  dying  saint. 
As  the  aloe  is  green  and  well«liking,  .till  the  last  best  summer  of  its  age, 
And  then  hangeth  out  its  golden  bells  to  mingle  glory  with  corruption ; 
As  a  meteor  travelleth  in  splendour,  but  bursteth  in  dazzling  light ; 
Such  was  the  end  of  the  righteous  :  his  death  was  the  sun  at  his  setting. 

Look  on  this  picture  of  joy,  and  remember  that  portrait  of  sorrow  : 

Behold  the  beauty  of  holiness,  behold  the  deformity  of  sin ! 

How  long,  ye  sons  of  men,  will  ye  scorn  the  words  of  wisdom  ? 

How  long  will  ye  hunt  for  happiness  in  the  caverns  that  breed  despair? 

Will  ye  comfort  yourselves  in  misery,  by  denying  the  existence  of  delight, 

And  from  experience  in  woe,  will  ve  reason  that  none  are  happy  ? 


120  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Joy  is  not  in  your  path,  for  it  loveth  not  that  bleak  broad  road, 

But  its  flowers  are  hung  upon  the  hedges  that  line  a  narrower  way ; 

And  there  the  faint  travellers  of  earth  may  wander  and  gather  for  them. 

selves, 
To  eoothe  their  wounded  hearts  with  balm  from  the  amaranths  of  heaven. 


NOTES. 

(FIRST    SERIES.) 

(l)  "And  thine  enfranchised  fellows  hail  thy  while  victorious  sous.7' 

Page  12. 

See  the  story  of  Theseus,  as  detailed  in  Dryden's  translation  of  Plutarch 
Life  I. 

(*)  "  Who  hath  companioned  a  vision  from  the  horn  or  ivory  gate  ?" 

Page  14. 
Virg.  .En.  VI.  894-897. 

"  Sunt  geminae  somni  portse  ;  quarnm  altera  fertui 
Cornea  ;  qua  veris  facilis  datur  exitus  umbris ; 
Altera  candenti  perfecta  nitens  elephanto  ; 
Sed  falsa  ad  cesium  mittunt  insomnia  Manes." 

(8)  "T/ie  sea-wort  floating  on  the  waxes"  <Sfc.  Page  16. 
The  common  sea-weeds  on  the  shores  of  Europe,  the  algae  and  fuci,  after 
having,  for  ages,  been  considered  as  synonymous  with  every  thing  vile  and 
worthless,  have,  in  modern  times,  been  found  to  be  abundant  in  iodine,  the  only 
known  cure  for  scrofula,  and  kelp,  so  useful  in  many  manufactures.  Horace 
has  signalized  his  ignorance  of  this  fact  in  Od.  III.  17,  10,  "  alga  inutili,"  &c.  ; 

and,  in  II.  Sat.  5,  8,  ironically  saying,  that,  " virtus,  nisi  cum  re,  vilioi 

alga  est."     Virgil  also  has  put  into  the  mouth  of  Thyrsis,  in  Eel.  .VII.  42, 
" Projecta  vilior  alga.." 

(4)  "Hath  the  crocus  yielded  up  its  bulb"  <SfC.     Page  16. 
The  autumnal  crocus,  or  colchicum,  which  consists  of  little  more  than  a 
deep  bulbous  root,  and  a  delicate  lilac  flower,  produces  a  substance  which  is 
called  veratrin,  and  has  been  used  with  signal  success  in  the  cure  of  gout  and 
similar  diseases.     A  few  lines  lower  down,  with  reference  to  the  elm,  I  would 
remark,  that  no  use  has  yet  been  discovered  in  the  principle  called  "  ulmine." 
"  The  boon  of  far  Peru  "  is  the  potato. 

6 


122  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

(5)  "  When  acorns  give  out  fragrant  drink"  <fc.  Page  17. 
At  a  meeting  of  the  Medico-Botanical  Society,  fin  1837,)  the  President 
introduced  to  the  notice  of  the  members  a  new  beve*aae  which  very  much 
resembled  coffee,  and  was  made  from  acorns  pooled,  chopped,  and  roasted. 
Bread  made  from  sawdust  is  certainly  not  very  palatable,  but  no  one  can  doubt 
that  it  is  far  more  sweet  and  wholesome  than  "  no  bread  ;"  in  a  famine,  this 
discovery,  which  has  passed  almost  sub  silentio,  would  prove  to  be  of  the  highest 
importance.  The  darnel,  it  may  be  observed,  in  passing,  is  highly  poisonous, 
and  a  proper  opposite  to  the  lotus. 

(9)  "He,  who  seeming  old  in  youth"  cf-c.  Page  22. 
Compare  Isa.  Hi.  14,  "  His  visage  was  so  marred  more  than  any  man,  and 
Ins  form  more  than  the  sons  of  men,"  with  the  idea  implied  in  the  observation, 
John  viii.  57,  "  Thou  art  not  yet  fifty  years  old,  and  hast  thou  seen  Abraham  1 
Our  Lord  was  then  thirty-three,  or,  according  to  some  chronologists,  even 
younger. 

(T)  "A  sentence  hath  formed  a  character,  ami  a  character  subdued  a  king' 

dom."     Page  25. 

A  better  instance  of  this  could  scarcely  be  found  than  in  the  late  Lord  Ex- 
mouth,  who  first  directed  his  thoughts  to  the  sea  from  a  casual  remark  made  by 
a  groom.  See  his  Life. 

(")  "That  small  cavern,"  <$-c.     Pago  26. 

The  pineal  gland,  a  small  oval  about  the  size  of  a  pea,  situated  nearly  in 
the  centre  of  the  brain,  and  generally  found  to  contain,  even  in  children,  some 
particles  of  gravel.  Galen,  and  after  him  Des  Cartes,  imagined  it  the  seat  of 
the  soul. 

(*)  "The  Greek  hath  surnamed,  ORDER."    Page  31. 
K<5<r//of.     The  Latins  also,  who  rarely  can  show  a  beautiful  idea  which  they 
have  not  borrowed  from  Greece,  have  made  a  similar  application  of  the  term 
"  mundus  "  to  the  fabric  of  the  world. 

(I0)  "To  this  our  day  the  Rechabite  wanteth  not  a  man"  t£c.  Page  37. 
I  have  heard  it  related  of  Wolfe,  the  missionary,  that  when  in  Arabia,  he 
fell  in  with  a  small  wandering  tribe,  who  refused  to  drink  wine,  not  on  Moham- 
medan principles,  but  because  it  had  in  olden  time  been"  forbidden  by  Jonadab, 
the  son  of  Rechab,  their  father."  Compare  Jeremiah  xxxv.  19,  "  Jonadab.me 
eon  of  Rechab,  shall  not  want  a  man  to  stand  before  me  for  ever."  It  will  be 
found  in  Mr.  Wolfe's  Journal, 


NOTES.  123 

(u)  "Of  Rest."    Page  37. 

A  very  obvious  objection  to  the  views  of  Rest  here  given  has  probably  oc- 
curred to  more  than  one  religious  reader  of  the  English  Bible  ;  "  there 
remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God  ;"  doubtless  intending  the  heavenly 
inheritance.  If  the  Greek  Testament  is  referred  to  (Heb.  iv.  9) ,  the  word  trans- 
lated "  rest "  will  be  found  to  be  <ra/?/?an<r/(<5s  ;  a  sabbatism,  or  perpetual  Sabbathj 
a  rest  indeed  from  evil,  but  very  far  from  being  a  rest  from  good  :  an  eternal 
act  of  ecstatic  intellectual  worship,  or  temporary  acts  in  infinite  series.  It  is 
true  that  another  word,  xaronravots,  implying  complete  cessation,  occurs  in  the 
context ;  but  this  is  used  of  the  earthly  image,  Joshua's  rest  in  Canaan ;  tho 
material  rest  of  earth  becomes  in  the  skies  a  spiritual  Sabbath  ;  although  I  am 
ready  to  admit  that  the  apostle  goes  on  to  argue  from  the  word  of  the  type. 
In  passing,  let  us  observe,  by  way  of  showing  the  uncertainty  of  trusting  to  any 
isolated  expression  of  the  present  scriptural  version,  that  there  are  no  less  than 
lix  several  words  of  various  meaning  which  in  our  New  Testament  are  all 
indifferently  rendered  rest:  as  in  Matt.  xii.  53,  dvairawts ;  in  John  xi.  13, 
tcoifiriaii ;  in  Heb.  iii.  ll,<cardn-aw(f ;  in  Acts  xi.  31,  tipfivri ;  in  2  Thess.  i.  7, 
Hi/eatf ;  and  in  Heb.  iv.  9,  <ra/?/?<mo-/i<5j.  The  Koipriotf  is,  I  apprehend,  what  is 
generally  meant  by  rest ;  so  wishes  Byron's  Giaour  to  "  sleep  without  the  dream 
of  what  he  was  ;"  so  he  who  in  life  "  loathed  the  languor  of  repose,"  avows 
that  he  "  would  not,  if  he  might,  be  blest,  and  sought  no  Paradise  but  Rest." 
Such,  at  least,  is  not  the  Christian's  Sabbath,  which  indeed  fully  agrees,  as  might 
be  expected,  with  metaphysical  inquiries  :  a  good  spirit  cannot  rest  from  activity 
in  good,  nor  an  evil  one  from  activity  in  evil.  Rest,  in  its  common  slothful 
acceptation,  is  not  possible,  or  is,  at  any  rate  very  improbable,  in  the  case  of 
spiritual  creatures. 

(")  "Calm  night  that  breedeth  thoughts."    Page  37. 

Ev<pp6vri.  Another  delicate  example  of  the  Greek  elegance  in  mind  and 
language. 

(13)  "Proteus,"  <f-c.     Page  43. 
Compare  Virgil,  Geor.  IV.  406,  412. 

"  Turn  variae  eludent  species  atque  ora  ferarum. 
Fiet  enirn  subito  sus  horridus,  atraque  tigris, 
Squamosusque  draco,  et  fulva.  cervice  leaena  ; 
Aut  acrem  flammoe  sonitum  dabit,  atque  ita  vinclis 
Excidet ,  aut  in  aquas  tenues  dilapsus  abibit. 
Sed,  quanto  ille  miffis  formas  se  vertet  in  omnes, 
Tanto,  nate,  magis  contends  tenacia  vincla." 


124  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

(u)  "  We  wait,  like  ike  sage  of  Salamis,  to  see  what  the  end  will  6e." 

Page  45. 
In  allusion  to  the  well-known  anecdote  of  Solon  at  the  court  of  Crcesua. 

(")  " Crowded  with  a  rainbow  of  emerald,  the  green  memorial  of  earth" 

Page  58. 

See  Rev.  iv.  3,  "  There  was  a  rainbow  round  about  the  throne,  in  sight 
like  unto  an  emerald  :"  it  may  be  a  fanciful  but  it  is  a  pleasing  idea,  that  this 
emerald  rainbow  was,  as  U  were,  a  reflection  of  the  earth,  which  "  God  so 
loved,',  and  whose  universal  robe  is  green. 

( I6)  "Like  the  Parthian."     Page  64. 

Compare  Horace,  Od.  I.  19,  12, "  Versis  animosum  equis  Parthum,"  and 
Virg.  Geo.  III.  21,  "  Parthus  fidens  fuga,  versisque  sagittis,',  with  Psalm  bcxviii. 
9,  "  The  children  of  Ephraim  carrying  bows,  who  turned  themselves  back  in 
the  day  of  battle." 

(17)  "The  giant  king  of  palms."     Page  65. 

The  magnificent  Talipat  palm,  the  column  of  which  frequently  exceeds  one 
hundred  feet  in  height,  whose  leaves  are  each  thirty  feet  in  breadth,  and  whose 
single  crop  of  fruits  feasts  a  whole  country. 

C18)  "It  is  only  the  band  of  the  redeemed  who  can  tell  thee  the  fullness  of 

that  name."     Page  68. 

Strictly  speaking,  only  a  fallen  being  is  capable  of  religion,  a  bringing  or 
binding  back  of  the  affections  to  their  nroper  object.  An  angel  or  other  pure 
intelligence,  can  have  no  sympathies  with  the  fallen,  as  such,  and  therefore  can 
know  nothing  ofre-ligion,  as  such  ;  his  worship  is  allegiance  or  liegeance. 

C'yOfa  Trinity."    Page  68. 

The  candid  reader  who  dissents  from  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  will  have 
the  goodness  to  remember,  that  the  question  itself  stands  on  far  other  and  higher 
grounds  than  those  of  mere  analogy:  this  observation  is  made  in  case  the 
slight  argument  here  urged  should  seem  weak  and  unsatisfactory  to  a  reflective 
mind :  it  is  nothing  more  than  an  addition  pro  lucro.  It  does  not  at  all  affect 
the  argument  that  the  three  elements  of  all  things  should  be  now  unknown,  or 
unsuspected.  The  idea  thrown  out  may  one  day  be  found  to  be  correct ;  and 
in  fact  it  will  be  very  difficult  to  prove  the  cor'.ary,  inasmuch  as  to  an  assertion 
of  its  falsity,  "  ready  answer  cometh;' — wait  until  we  know  more. 


NOTES.  125 

(20)  "Tlie  noonday  light  is  a  compound,  the  triune  shadow  of  Jehovah  " 

Page  70. 

The  rainbow,  which  is  light  analyzed,  is  but  three  colours,  blue,  yellow,  and 
red,  with  their  intermediate  shades.  I  think  no  one  of  these  can  be  mixed  or 
made  of  others,  and  in  their  union  they  produce  colourless  light. 

(2I)  "Upon  whose  lips  the  mystic  bee"  <SfC.     Page  78. 
The  classical  reader  will  not  need  to  be  reminded  of  the  omen  that  hap- 
pened to  the  infant  Pindar. 

(22J  "L°t  another  Omar  burn  the  full  library  of  knowledge."     Page  79. 

The  Alexandrian  library,  compiled  by  Ptolemy  Euergetes,  contained  700,000 
manuscripts,  all  of  which  were  burnt  by  the  fanatical  calif  Omar. 

(S3)  "The  strange  skin  garments  cast  upon  the  shore  suggest  another 

hemisphere."    Page  86. 

An  anecdote  I  have  somewhere  heard  of  Columbus,  who,  having  sailed  aa 
far  as  Flores,  one  of  the  Western  Islands,  was  induced  to  proceed  further  from 
hearing  that  savage  robes  and  weapons  had  been  cast  up  by  the  sea,  after  the 
prevalence  of  westerly  gales.  It  will  probably  be  met  with  in  Washington 
Irving's  Life  of  Columbus. 

(*4)  "The  lichen     .     .     .     dying,  diggeth  its  own  grave."     Page  86. 

One  of  the  great  uses  of  these  pioneers  of  vegetation  is  to  corrode  and  fret 
the  smooth  surface  of  the  rocks,  by  an  acid  which  they  generate  during  decom- 
position. 

(8S)  "Ridicule — the  test  of  truth.     Page  89. 

One  of  the  weakest  points  in  the  Shaftesbury  philosophy,  which  would 
weigh  principles  against  puns. 

(98)  "And  being  but  men,  as  men,  ye  own  to  all  the  sympathies  of  manhood." 

Page  100. 

The  noble  and  masculine  sentiment  of  Terence,  which  of  old  electrified  the 
wnole  theatre 

"  Homo  sum,  humani  nihil  a  me  alienem  puto." 

(27)  "Ganesa."    Page  113. 

The  elephant-headed  god  of  prudence  who  is  invoked  on  every  occasion  by 
the  Hindoos.  Kali,  called  also  Durga,  is  a  destroying  power.  Kamala  signi- 
fies "  lotus-like,"  a  type  of  beauty,  and  one  of  the  names  of  Laksluni. 
Vishnu  is  the  great  Preserver  in  the  Brahmin  triad :  his  incarnations  are  called 
avatars. 


156  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

(3S)  "God  will  not  love  thee  less,  because  men  love  thee  more,"  Page  116. 
It  may  be  scarcely  necessary  to  remark,  that  the  gist  of  the  argument  in 
Matt.  v.  11,  "Blessed  are  ye,  when  men  shall  revile  you  and  persecute  you, 
and  shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  against  you,"  lies  in  the  "  falsely ,  for  my  sake." 
This  verse  has  all  the  characteristics  of  an  epigram, — paradox,  brevity,  and 
final  satisfaction. 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY 

SECOND  SERIES. 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

COME  again,  and  greet  me  as  a  friend,  fellow-pilgrim  upon  life's  highway : 
Leave  awhile  the  hot  and  dusty  road,  to  loiter  in  the  greenwood  of  Re- 
flection. 

Come,  unto  mv  cool  dim  grotto,  that  is  watered  by  the  rivulet  of  truth, 
And  over  w  >  we  time-stained  rock  climb  the  fairy  flowers  of  content ; 
Here,  upot  .  B  j  mossy  bank  of  leisure  fling  thy  load  of  cares, 
Tast«nny  simple  store,  and  rest  one  soothing  hour. 

Behold.  I  would  count  thee  for  a  brother,  and  commune  with  thy  charitable 

soul ;      • 
Though  wrapt  within  the  mantle  of  a  prophet,  I  stand  mine  own  weak 

scholar. 

Heed  no  disciple  for  a  teacher,  if  knowledge  be  not  found  upon  his  tongue; 
For  vanity  and  folly  were  the  lessons  these  lips  untaught  could  give  : 
The  precious  staple  of  my  merchandise  cometh  from  a  better  country 
The  harvest  of  my  reaping  sprang  of  foreign  seed : 
And  this  poor  pensioner  of  Mercy — should  he  boast  of  merit  ? 
The  grafted  stock, — should  that  be  proud  of  apples  not  its  own  ? 
J  nto  the  bubbling  brook  I  dip  my  hermit  shell ; 
Man  receiveth  as  a  cup,  but  Wisdom  is  the  river. 

Moreover,  for  this  illagree  of  fancy,  this  Oriental  garnish  of  similitude, 
Alas,  the  world  is  old, — and  all  things  old  within  it : 
I  walk  a  trodden  path,  I  love  the  good  old  ways : 
Prophets,  and  priests,  and  kings  have  tuned  the  harp  I  faintly  touch. 

6* 


[30  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Truth  in  a  garment  of  the  past,  is  my  choice  and  simple  theme ; 
No  truth  is  new  to-day  ;  and  the  mantle  was  another's. 

Still,  there  is  an  insect  swarm,  the  buzzing  cloud  of  imagery, 
Mote-like  steaming  on  my  sight,  and  thronging  my  reluctant  mind ; 
The  memories  of  studious  culling,  and  multiplied  analogies  of  nature, 
Fresh  feelings  unrepressed,  welling  from  the  heart  spontaneous, 
Facts,  and  comparisons,  aild  meditative  atoms,  gathered  on  Jhe  heap  of 

combination, 

Mingle  in  the  fashion  of  my  speech  with  gossamer  dreams  of  Reverie. 
I  need  not  beat  the  underwood  for  game ;  my  pheasants  flock  upon  the 

lawn, 

And  gamboling  hares  disport  fearless  in  my  dewy  field  ; 
I  roam  no  heath-empurpled  hills,  wearily  watching  for  a  covey, 
But  thoughts  fly  swift  to  my  decoy,  eager  to  be  caught ; 
I  sit  no  quiet  angler,  lingering  patiently  for  sport, 
But  spread  my  nets  for  a  draught,  and  take  the  glittering  shoal ; 
I  chase  no  solitary  stag,  tracking  it  with  breathless  toil, 
But  hunt  with  Aurung-zebe,  and  spear  surrounded  thousands  !  (') 

What  then, — count  ye  this  a  boast  ? — sweet  charity,  think  it  other,« 
For  the  dog-fish  and  poisonous  ray  are  captured  in  the  mullet-haul : 
The  crane  and  the  kite  are  of  my  thoughts,  alike  with  the  partridge  and 

the  quail, 

And  unclean  meats  as  of  the  clean  hang  upon  my  Seric  shambles. 
— How,  saith  he  ?  shall  a  man  deceive,  dressing  up  his  jackal  as  a  lion  ? 
Or  colour  in  staid  hues  of  fact  the  changing  vest  of  falsehood  1— 
Brother,  unwittingly  he  may ;  doubtless,  unwillingly  he  doth  : 
For  men  are  full  of  fault,  and  how  should  he  be  righteous  ? 
Carefully  my  garden  hath  been  weeded,  yet  shall  it  be  foul  with  thistle ; 
My  grapery  is  diligently  thinned,  and  yet  many  berries  will  be  sour : 
From  my  nets  have  I  flung  the  bad  away,  to  my  small  skill  and  caution ; 
Yet  may  some  slimy  snake  have  counted  for  an  eel ; 
The  rudder  of  man's  best  hope  cannot  always  steer  himself  from  error ; 
The  arrow  of  man's  straightest  aim  flieth  short  of  truth. 
Thus,  the  confession  of  sincerity  visit  not  as  if  it  were  presumption ; 
Nor  own  me  for  a  leader,  where  thy  reason  is  not  guide. 


OF  CHEERFULNESS.  131 


OF  CHEERFULNESS. 

TAKE  courage,  prisoner  of  time,  for  there  be  many  comforts, 
Cease  thy  labour  in  the  pit,  and  bask  awhile  with  truants  in  the  sun ; 
Be  cheerful,  man  of  care,  for  great  is  the  multitude  of  chances, 
Burst  thy  fetters  of  anxiety,  and  walk  among  the  citizens  of  ease. 
Wherefore  dost  thou  doubt  ?  if  present  good  is  round  thee, 
It  may  be  well  to  look  for  change,  but  to  trust  in  a  continuance  is  better ; 
Whilst,  at  the  crisis  of  adversity,  to  hope  for  some  amends  were  wisdom, 
And  cheerfully  to  bear  thy  Cross  in  patient  strength  is  duty. 
I  speak  of  common  troubles,  and  the  petty  plagues  of  life, 
The  phantom-spies  of  Unbelief,  that  lurk  about  his  outposts : 
Sharp  suspicion,  dull  distrust,  and  sullen  stern  moroseness, 
Are  captains  in  that  locust  swarm  to  lead  the  cloudy  host. 
Thou  hast  need  of  fortitude  and  faith,  for  the  adversaries  come  on  thickly, 
And  he  that  fled  hath  added  wings  to  his  pursuing  foes  ; 
Fight  them,  and  the  cravens  flee  ;  thy  boldness  is  their  panic  ; 
Fear  them,  and  thy  treacherous  heart  hath  lent  the  ranks  a  legion  : 
Among  their  shouts  of  victory  resoundcth  the  wail  of  Heraclitus, 
While  Democrite,  confident  and  cheerful,  hath  plucked  up  the  standard 
of  their  camp.  (*) 

Not  few  nor  light  are  the  burdens  of  life  ;  then  load  it  not  with  heaviness 

of  spirit ; 

Sickness,  and  penury,  and  travail, — there  be  real  ills  enow  : 
We  are  wandering  benighted,  with  a  waning  moon' ;  plunge  not  rashly 

into  jungles, 

Where  cold  and  poisonous  damps  will  quench  the  torch  of  hope  : 
The  tide  is  strong  against  us  ;  good  oarsmen  pull  or  perish, — 
If  your  arms  be  slack  for  fear,  ye  shall  not  stem  the  torrent. 
A  wise  traveller  goeth  on  cheerily,  through  fair  weather  or  foul ; 
He  knoweth  that  his  journey  must  be  sped,  so  he  carrieth  his  sunshine 

with  him. 

Colamities  come  not  as  a  curse, — nor  prosperity  for  other  than  a  trial ; 
{struggle. — thou  art  better  for  the  strife,  and  the  very  energy  shall  hearten 

thee. 
Good  is  taught  in  a  Spartan  school, — hard  lessons  and  a  rough  discipline, 


132  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

But  evil  cometh  idly  of  itself,  in  the  luxury  of  Capuan  holidays ; 
And  wisdom  will  go  bravely  forth  to  meet  the  chastening  scourge, 
Enduring  with  a  thankful  heart  that  punishment  of  Love. 

There  be  three  chief  rivers  of  despondency ;  sin,  sorrow,  fear ; 

Sin  is  the  deepest,  sorrow  hath  its  shallows,  and  fear  is  a  noisy  rapid : 

But  even  to  the  darkest  holes  in  guilt's  profoundest  river 

Hope  can  pierce  with  quickening  ray,  and  all  those  depths  are  lightened. 

So  long  as  there  is  mercy  in  a  God,  hope  is  the  privilege  of  creatures, 

And  so  soon  as  there  is  penitence  in  creatures,  that  hope  is  exalted  into 

duty. 

Verily,  consider  this  for  courage  ;  that  the  fearful  and  the  unbelieving 
Are  classed  with  idolaters  and  liars,  because  they  trusted  not  in  God :  (') 
For  it  is  no  other  than  selfish  sin,  a  hard  and  proud  ingratitude, 
Where  seeming  repentance  is  herald  of  despair,  instead  of  hope's  fore- 
runner. 

Moreover,  in  thy  day  of  Grief, — for  friends,  or  fame,  or  fortune, 
Weil  I  wot  the  heart  shall  ache,  and  mind  be  numbed  in  torpor : 
Lot  nature  weep  ;  leave  her  alone  ;  the  freshet  of  her  sorrow  must  run  off ; 
•And  sooner  will  the  lake  be  clear,  relieved  of  turbid  floodings. 
Yet  see  that  her  license  hath  a  limit ;  with  the  novelty  her  agony  is  over ; 
Hasten  in  that  earliest  calm,  to  tie  her  in  the  leash  with  Reason. 
For  regrets  are  an  enervating  folly,  and  the  season  for  energy  is  come, 
Yea  rather,  that  the  future  nay  repair  with  diligence  the  ruins  of  the  past. 

Again,  for  empty  fears,  the  iiarassings  of  possible  calamity  ; 

Pray,  and  thou  shalt  prosper;  trust  in  God,  and  tread  them  down. 

Yield  to  the  phantasy, — thou  sinnest ;  resist  it,  He  will  aid  thce. 

Out  of  him  there  is  no  help,  nor  any  sober  courage. 

Feeble  is  the  comfort  of  the  faithless,  a  man  without  a  God ; 

Who  dare  counsel  such  an  one  to  fling  away  his  fears  ? 

Fear  is  the  heritage  of  him,  a  portion  wise  and  merciful, 

To  drive  the  trembler  into  safety,  if  haply  he  may  turn  and  flee  : 

Nevertheless,  let  him  reckon  if  he  will,  that  all  he  counteth  casual 

May  as  well  be  for  him  as  against  him  :  dice  have  many  sides  : 

And,  even  as  in  ailments  of  the  body,  diseases  follow  closely  upon  dreads, 

So,  with  infirmities  of  mind,  is  fear  the  pallid  harbinger  of  failure. 

It  were  wise  to  talk  undaunted  even  in  an  accidental  chaos, 


OF  CHEERFULNESS.  13J 

For  the  brave  man  is  at  peace  and  free  to  get  the  mastery  of  circumstance 
The  stoutest  armour  of  defence  is  that  which  is  worn  within  the  bosom, 
And  the  weapon  that  no  enemy  can  parry,  is  a  bold  and  cheerful  spirit : 
Catapults  in  old  war  worked  like  Titans,  crushing  foes  with  rocks ; 
So  doth  a  strong-springed  heart  throw  back  every  load  on  its  assailants. 

1  went  heavily  for  cares,  and  fell  into  the  trance  of  sorrow : 

And  behold,  a  vision  in  my  trance,  and  my  ministering  angel  brought  it : 

There  stood  a  mountain  huge  and  steep,  the  awful  Rock  of  Ages ; 

The  sun  upon  its  summit,  and  storms  midway,  and  deep  ravines  at  foot ; 

And,  as  I  looked,  a  dense  black  cloud,  suddenly  dropping  from  the  thunder, 

Filled,  like  a  cataract,  with  yeasty  foam,  a  narrow  smiling  valley  : 

Close  and  hard  that  vaporous  mass  seemed  to  press  the  ground, 

And  lamentable  sounds  came  up,  as  of  some  that  were  smothering  beneath. 

Then,  as  I  walked  upon  the  mountain,  clear  in  summer's  noon, 

For  charity  I  called  aloud,  Ho !  climb  up  hither  to  the  sunshine. 

And  even  like  a  stream  of  light  my  voice  had  pierced  the  mist : 

I  saw  below  two  families  of  men,  and  knew  their  names  of  old : 

Courage,  struggling  through  the  darkness,  stout  of  heart  and  gladsome, 

Ran  up  the  shining  ladder  which  the  voice  of  hope  had  made  ; 

And  tripping  lightly  by  his  side,  a  sweet-eyed  helpmate  with  him, 

I  looked  upon  her  face  to  welcome  pleasant  Cheerfulness  ; 

And  a  babe  was  cradled  in  her  bosom,  a  laughing  little  prattler, 

The  child  of  Cheerfulness  and  Courage, — could  his  name  be  other  than 

Success  ? 

So,  from  his  happy  wife,  when  they  both  stood  beside  me^n  the  mountain. 
The  foncf  father  took  that  babe,  and  set  him  on  his  shoulder  in  the  sunshine. 

Again  I  peered  into  the  valley,  for  I  heard  a  gasping  moan, 

A  desolate  weak  cry,  as  muffled  in  the  vapours. 

So  down  that  crystal  shaft  into  the  poisonous  mine 

I  sped  for  charity  to  seek  and  save, — and  those  I  sought  fled  from  me. 

At  length,  I  spied  far  distant,  a  trembling  withered  dwarf, 

Who  crouched  beneath  the  cloak  of  a  tall  and  spectral  mourner ; 

Then  I  knew  Cowardice  and  Gloom,  and  followed  them  on  in  darkness, 

Guided  by  their  rustling  robes  and  moans  and  muffled  cries, 

Until  in  a  suffocating  pit  the  wretched  pair  had  perished, — 

And  lo,  their  whitening  bones  were  shaping  out  an  epitaph  of  Failure. 


114  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

So  I  saw  that  despondency  was  death,  and  flung  my  burdens  from  me, 
And,  lightened  by  that  effort,  I  was  raised  above  the  world ; 
Yea,  in  the  strangeness  of  my  vision,  I  seemed  to  soar  on  wings, 
And  the  names  they  called  my  wings  were  Cheerfulness  and  Wisdom. 


OF    YESTERDAY. 

SPEAK,  poor  almsman  of  to-day,  whom  none  can  assure  of  a  to-morrow, 
Tell  out,  with  honest  heart,  the  price  thou  settest  upon  yesterday. 
Is  it  then  a  writing  in  the  dust,  traced  by  the  finger  of  idleness, 
Which  Industry,  clean  housewife,  can  wipe  away  for  ever  ? 
Is  it  as  a  furrow  on  the  sand,  fashioned  by  the  toying  waves, 
Quickly  to  be  trampled  then  again  by  the  feet  of  the  returning  tide  J 
Is  it  as  the  pale  blue  smoke,  rising  from  a  peasant's  hovel, 
That  melteth  into  limpid  air,  before  it  topped  the  larches  ? 
Is  it  but  a  vision,  unstable  and  unreal,  which  wise  men  soon  forget  I 
Is  it  as  the  stranger  of  the  night, — gone,  we  heed  not  whither  ? 
Alas !  thou  foolish  heart,  whose  thoughts  are  but  as  these, 
Alas  !  deluded  soul,  that  hopeth  thus  of  Yesterday.    • 

For,  behold, — those  temples  of  Ellora,  the  Brahmin's  rock-built  shrine, 

Behold, — yon  gftnite  cliff,  which  the  North  Sea  buffeteth  in  vain, — 

That  stout  old  forest  fir, — these  waking  verities  of  life, — 

This  guest  abiding  ever,  not  strange,  nor  a  servant,  but  a  son, — 

Such,  O  man,  are  vanity  and  dreams,  transient  as  a  rainbow  on  the  cloud, 

Weighed  against  that  solid  fact,  thine  ill-remembered  Yesterday. 

Come,  let  me  show  thee  an  ensample,  where  Nature  shall  instruct  us  ; 
Luxuriantly  the  arguments  for  truth  spring  native  in  her  gardens. 
Seek  we  yonder  woodman  of  the  plain  ;  he  is  measuring  his  axe  to  the  elm, 
And  anon  the  sturdy  strokes  ring  upon  the  wintry  air : 
Eagerly  the  village  schoolboys  cluster  on  the  tightened  rope, 
Shouting,  and  bending  to  the  pull,  or  lifted  from  the  ground  elastic ; 
The  huge  tree  boweth  like  Sisera,  boweth  to  its  foes  with  faintness, — 
Its  sinews  crack, — deep  groans  declare  the  reeling  anguish  of  Goliath, 


OF  YESTERDAY.  135 

The  wedge  is  driven  home, — and  the  saw  is  at  its  heart, — and  lo,  with 

solemn  slowness, 
The  shuddering  monarch  riseth  from  his  throne,  toppled  with  a  crash, — 

and  is  fallen ! 

Now,  shall  the  mangled  stump  teach  proud  man  a  lesson ; 
Now,  can  we  from  that  elm-tree's  sap  distill  the  wine  of  Truth. 
Heed  ye  those  hundred  rings,  concentric  from  the  core, 
Eddying  in  various  waves  to  the  red  bark's  shore-like  rim  ? 
These  be  the  gathering  of  yesterdays,  present  all  to-day, 
This  is  the  tree's  judgment,  self-history  that  cannot  be  gainsaid : 
Seven  years  agone  there  was  a  drought, — and  the  seventh  ring  is  nar- 
rowed ; 

The  fifth  from  hence  was  half  a  deluge, — the  fifth  is  cellular  and  broad. 
Thus,  Man,  thou  art  a  result,  the  growth  of  many  yesterdays, 
That  stamp  thy  secret  soul  with  marks  of  weal  or  woe : 
Thou  art  an  almanac  of  self,  the  living  record  of  thy  deeds ;       • 
Spirit  hath  its  scars  as  well  as  body,  sore  and  aching  in  their  season : 
Here  is  a  knot, — it  was  a  crime ;  there  is  a  canker, — selfishness ; 
Lo,  here,  the  heart-wood  rotten ;  lo,  there,  perchance,  the  sap-wood  sound. 
Nature  teacheth  not  in  vain ;  thy  works  are  in  thee,  of  thee ; 
Some  present  evil  bent  hath  grown  of  older  errors ; 
And  what  if  thou  be  walking  now  uprightly  ?     Salve  not  thy  wounds 

with  poison, 

As  if  a  petty  goodness  of  to-day  hath  blotted  out  the  sin  of  yesterday : 
It  is  well,  thou  hast  life  and  light ;  and  the  Hewer  showeth  mercy, 
Dressing  the  root,  pruning  the  branch,  and  looking  for  thy  tardy  fruits ; 
But,  even  here,  as  thou  standest,  cheerful  belike  and  careless, 
The  stains  of  ancient  evil  are  upon  thee,  the  record  of  thy  wrong  is  in 

thee : 

For,  a  curse  of  many  yesterdays  is  thine,  many  yesterdays  of  sin, 
That,  haply  little  heeded  now,  shall  blast -thy  many  morrows. 

Shall  then  a  man  reck  nothing,  but  hurl  mad  defiance  at  his  Judge, 

Knowing  that  less  than  an  omnipotent  cannot  make  the  has  been,  not  been? 

He  ought, — so  Satan  spake ;  he  must, — so  Atheism  urgeth ; 

He  may,  it  was  the  libertine's  thought ;  he  doth, — the  bad  world  said  it. 

But  thou  of  humbler  heart,  thou  student  wiser  for  simplicity, 

While  nature  warneth  thee  betimes,  heed  the  loving  counsel  of  Religion. 


,36  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

True,  this  change  is  good,  and  penitence  most  precious ; 

But  trust  not  thou  thy  change,  nor  rest  upon  repentance ; 

For  we  all  are  corrupted  at  the  core,  smooth  as  surface  seemeth ; 

What  health  can  bloom  in  a  beautiful  skin,  when  rottenness  hath  fed  upon 

the  bones  ? 

And  guilt  is  parcel  of  us  all ;  not  thou,  sweet  nursling  of  affection, 
Art  spotless,  though  so  passing  fair, — nor  thou,  mild  patriarch  of  virtue. 

Behold  then  the  better  Tree  of  Life,  free  unto  us  all  for  grafting, 

Cut  thee  from  the  hollow  root  of  self,  to  be  budded  on  a  richer  Vine. 

Be  desperate,  O  man.  as  of  evil,  so  of  good :  tear  that  tunic  from  thee  ; 

The  past  can  never  L    retrieved,  be  the  present  what  it  may. 

Vain  is  the  penance  a.     the  scourge,  vain  the  fast  and  vigil ; 

The  fencer's  cautious .    ill  to-day,  can  this  erase  his  scars  ? 

It  is  Man's  to  famish  as     faquir,  it  is  Man's  to  die  a  devotee, 

Light  is  the  torture  and  me  toil,  balanced  with  the  wages  of  Eternity : 

But,  it  is  God's  to  yearn  in  love  on  the  humblest,  the  poorest,  and  the 

worst, 

For  he  giveth  freely,  as  a  King,  asking  only  thanks  for  mercy. 
Look  upon  this  noble-hearted  Substitute ;  seeing  thy  woes,  he, pitied  thee, 
Bowed  beneath  the  mountain  of  thy  sin,  and  perished, — but  for  Godhead ; 
There  stood  the  Atlas  in  his  power,  and  Prometheus  in  his  love  is  there, 
Emptying  on  wretched  man  the  blessings  earned  from  heaven : 
Put  them  not  away,  hide  them  in  thy  heart,  poor  ahd  penitent  receiver, 
Be  gratitude  thy  counsellor  to  good,  and  wholesome  fear  unto  obedience : 
Remember,  the  pruning-knife  is  keen,  cutting  cankers  even  from  the  vine : 
Remember,  twelve  were  chosen,  and  one  among  them  liveth — in  perdition. 

Yea, — for  standing  unatoned,  the  soul  is  a  bison  on  the  prairie, 

Hunted  by  those  trooping  wolves,  the  many  sinful  yesterdays : 

And  it  speedeth  a  terrified  Deucalion,  flinging  back  the  pebble  in  his  flight, 

The  pebble  that  must  add  one  more  to  those  pursuing  ghosts.  (') 

O  man,  there  is  a  storm  behind,  should  drive  thy  bark  to  haven ; 

Thy  foe,  thp  foe  is  on  thy  track,  patient,  certain,  and  avenging ;  t 

Day  by  day,  solemnly  and  silently,  followeth  the  fearful  past, — 

His  step  is  lame  but  sure  ;  for  he  catcheth  the  present  in  eternity  : 

And  how  to  escape  that  foe,  the  present-past  in  future  ? 

How  to  avert  that  fate,  living  consequence  of  causes  unexistent  ? 

Boldly  we  must  overleap  his  birth,  and  date  above  his  memories, 


OF  TO-DAY.  137 

Grafted  on  the  living  Tree  that  WAS  before  a  yesterday ; 

No  refuge  of  a  younger  birth  than  one  that  saw  creation, 

Can  hide  the  child  of  time  from  still  condemning  yesterday. 

There  is  the  Sanctuary-city,  mocking  at  the  wrath  of  thine  Avenger, 

Close  at  hand,  with  it$  wicket  on  the  latch;  haste  for  thy  life,  poor 

hunted  one ! 

The  gladiator,  Guilt,  fighteth  as  of  old,  armed  with  net  and  dagger ; 
Snaring  in  the  mesh  of  yesterdays,  stabbing  with  the  poniard  of  to-day : 
Fly,  thy  sword  is  broken  at  the  hilt ;  fly,  thy  shield  is  shivered ; 
Leap  the  barriers  and  baffle  him ;  the  arena  of  the  past  is  his. 
The  bounds  of  Guilt  are  the  cycles  of  Time ;  thou  must  be  safe  within 

Eternity ; 
The  arms  of  God  alone  shall  rescue  thee  from  Yesterday. 


OF    TO-DAY. 

Now,  is  the  consent  syllable  ticking  from  the  clock  of  time, 

Now,  is  the  watchword  of  the  wise,  Now,  is  on  the  banner  of  the  prudent. 

Cherish  thy  to-day  and  prize  it  well,  or  ever  it  be  gulfed  into  the  past, 

Husband  it,  for  who  can  promise  if  it  shall  have  a  morrow  ? 

Behold  thou  art, — it  is  enough ;  that  present  care  be  thine ; 

Leave  thou  the  past  to  thy  Redeemer,  intrust  the  future  to  thy  Friend ; 

But  for  to-day,  child  of  man,  tend  thou  charily  the  minutes, 

The  harvest  of  thy  yesterday,  the  seed-corn  of  thy  morrow. 

Last  night  died  its  day  ;  and  the  deeds  thereof  were  judged : 

Thou  didst  lay  thee  down  as  in  a  shroud,  in  darkness  and  death-like 

slumber ; 

But  at  -the  trumpet  of  this  morn,  waking  the  world  to  resurrection, 
Thou  didst  arise,  like  others,  to  live  a  new  day's  life ; 
Fear,  lest  folly  give  thee  cause  to  mourn  its  passing  presence, 
Fear,  that  to-morrow's  sigh  be  not,  would  God  it  had  not  dawned ! 

For,  To-day  the  lists  are  set,  and  thou  must  bear  thee  bravely, 
Tilting  for  honour,  duty,  life,  or  death  without  reproach : 
To-day,  is  the  trial  of  thy  fortitude,  O  dauntless  Mandan  chief; 


138  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

To-day,  is  thy  watch,  O  sentinel ;  to-day  thy  reprieve,  O  captive ; 

What  more  ?  to-day  is  the  golden  chance  wherewith  to  snatch  fruition,— 

Be  glad,  grateful,  temperate :  there  are  asps  among  the  figs. 

For  the  potter's  clay  is  in  thy  hands, — to  mould  it  or  to  mar  it  at  thy  will, 

Or  idly  to  leave  it  in  the  sun,  an  uncouth  lump,  to  harden. 

0  bright  presence  of  To-day,  let  me  wrestle  with  thee,  gracious  angel, 

1  will  not  let  thee  go,  except  thou  bless  me  ;  bless  me,  then,  To-day : 

0  sweet  garden  of  To-day,  let  me  gather  of  thee,  precious  Eden, 

1  have  stolen  bitter  knowledge,  give  me  fruits  of  life  To-day : 

0  true  temple  of  To-day,  let  me  worship  in  thee,  glorious  Zion  ; 

1  find  none  other  place  nor  time,  than  where  I  am  To-day : 

0  living  rescue  of  To-day,  let  me  run  unto  thee,  ark  of  refuge ; 

1  see  none  other  hope  nor  chance,  but  standeth  in  To-day : 

0  rich  banquet  of  To-day,  let  me  feast  upon  thee,  saving  manna ; 

1  have  none  other  food  nor  store,  but  daily  bread  To-day ! 

Behold,  thou  art  pilot  of  the  ship,  and  owner  of  that  freighted  galleon. 
Competent,  with  all  thy  weakness,  to  steer  into  safety  or  be  lost : 
Compass  and  chart  are  in  thy  hand :  roadstead  and  rocks  thou  knowest ; 
Thou  art  warned  of  reefs  and  shallows ;  thou  beholdest  the  harbour  and 

its  lights. 
What?   shall  thy  wantonness  or  sloth  drive  the  gallant  vessel  on  the 

breakers  ? 

What  ?  shall  the  helmsman's  hand  wear  upon  the  black  lee  shore  ? 
Vain  is  that  excuse ;   thou  canst  escape :   thy  mind  is  responsible  for 

wrong : 

Vain  that  murmur ;  thou  may'st  live :  thy  soul  is  debtor  for  the  right. 
To-day,  in  the  voyage  of  thy  life  down  the  dark  tide  of  time, 
Stand  boldly  to  thy  tiller,  guide  thee  by  the  pole-star,  and  be  safe ; 
To-day,  passing  near  the  sunken-rocks,  the  quicksands  and  whirlpools  of 

probation, 
Leave  awhile  the  rudder  to  swing  round,  give  the  wind  its  heading,  and  be 

wrecked. 

The  crisis  of  man's  destiny  is  Now,  a  still  recurring  danger  : 
Who  can  tell  the  trials  and  temptations  coming  with  the  coming  hour  ? 
Thou  standest  a  target-like  Sebastian,  and  the  arrows  whistle  near  thee : 
Who  knoweth  when  he  may  be  hit  ?  for  great  is  the  company  of  archers. 


OF  TO-MORROW.  139 

Each  breath  is  burdened  with  a  bidding,  and  every  minute  hath  its  mi»» 

sion  ; 

For  spirits,  good  and  bad,  cluster  on  the  thickly  peopled  air : 
Sin  may  blast  thee,  grace  may  bless  thee,  good  or  ill  this  hour  : 
Chance,  and  change,  and  doubt,  and  fear,  are  parasites  of  all. 
A  man's  life  is  a  tower,  with  a  staircase  of  many  steps, 
That,  as  he  toileth  upward,  crumble  successively  behind  him : 
No  going  back,  the  past  is  an  abyss ;  no  stopping,  for  the  present  perish- 

eth; 

But  ever  hasting  on,  precarious  on  the  foothold  of  To-day. 
Our  cares  are  all  To-day  ;  our  joys  are  all  To-<lay ; 
And  in  one  little  word,  our  life,  what  is  it,  but — To-day  ? 


OF   TO-MORROW. 

THERE  is  a  floating  island,  forward,  on  the  stream  of  time, 

Buoyant  with  fermenting  air,  and  borne  along  the  rapids ; 

And  on  that  island  is  a  siren,  singing  sweetly  as  she  goeth, 

Her  eyes  are  bright  with  invitation,  and  allurement  lurketh  in  her  cheeks ; 

Many  lovers  vainly  pursuing,  follow  her  beckoning  finger, 

Many  lovers  seek  her  still,  even  to  the  cataract  of  death. 

To-morrow  is  that  island,  a  vain  and  foolish  heritage, 

And,  laughing  with  seductive  lips,  Delusion  hideth  there. 

Often,  the  precious  present  is  wasted  in  visions  of  the  future, 

And  coy  To-morrow  cometh  not  with  prophecies  fulfilled. 

There  is  a  fairy  skiff,  plying  on  the  sea  of  life, 

.And  charitably  toiling  still  to  save  the  shipwrecked  crews ; 

Within,  kindly  patient,  sitteth  a  gentle  mariner, 

Piloting,  through  surf  and  strait,  the  fragile  barks  of  men : 

How  cheering  is  her  voice,  how  skilfully  she  guideth, 

How  nobly  leading  onward  yet,  defying  even  death ! 

To-morrow  is  that  skiff,  a  wise  and  welcome  rescue, 

And,  full  of  gladdening  words  and  looks,  that  mariner  is  Hope. 

Often,  the  painful  present  is  comforted  by  flattering  the  future 

And  kind  To-morrow  beareth  half  the  burdens  of  To-day. 


140  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

To-morrow,  whispereth  weakness ;  and  To-morrow  findeth  him  the  weaker: 

To-morrow,  promiseth  conscience  ;  and  behold,  no  to-day  for  a  fulfilment. 

O  name  of  happy  omen  unto  youth,  O  bitter  word  of  terror  to  the  dotard, 

Goal  of  folly's  lazy  wish,  and  sorrow's  ever-coming  friend, 

Fraud's  loophole, — caution's  hint, — and  trap  to  catch  the  honest,— 

Thou  wealth  to  many  poor,  disgrace  to  many  noble, 

Thou  hope  and  fear,  thou  weal  and  woe,  thou  remedy,  thou  ruin, 

How  thickly  swarms  of  thought  are  clustering  round  To-morrow.  » 

The  hive  of  memory  increaseth,  to  every  day  its  cell ; 

There  is  the  labour  stored,  the  honey  or  corruption  : 

Each  morn  the  bees  fly  forth,  to  fill  the  growing  comb, 

And  levy  golden  tribute  of  the  uncomplaining  flowers  : 

To-morrow  is  their  care ;  they  toil  for  rest  To-morrow ; 

But  man  deferreth  duty's  task,  and  loveth  ease  to-day. 

To-morrow  is  that  lamp  upon  the  marsh,  which  a  traveller  never  reacheth ; 
To-morrow,  the  rainbow's  cup,  coveted  prize  of  ignorance ; 
To-morrow,  the  shifting  anchorage,  dangerous  trust  of  mariners  ; 
To-morrow,  the  wrecker's  beacon,  wily  snare  of  the  destroyer. 
Reconcile  conviction  with  delay,  and  To-morrow  is  a  fatal  lie ; 
Frighten  resolutions  into  action,  To-morrow  is  a  wholesome  truth : 
J  must,  for  I  fear  To-morrow  ;  this  is  the  Cassava's  food ; 
Why  should  I  ?  let  me  trust  To-morrow, — this  is  the  Cassava's  poison. 

Lo,  it  is  the  even  of  To-day, — a  day  so  lately  a  To-morrow  ; 
Where  are  those  high  resolves,  those  hopes  of  yesternight  ? 

0  faint  heart,  still  shall  thy  whisper  be,  To-morrow, 

And  must  the  growing  avalanche  of  sin  roll  down  that  easy  slope  ? 

Alas,  it  is  ponderous,  and  moving  on  in  might,  that  a  Sisyphus  may  not 

stop  it ; 

But  haste  thee  with  the  lever  of  a  prayer,  and  stem  its  strength  To-day  :• 
For  its  race  may  speedily  be  run,  and  this  poor  nut,  thyself, 
Be  whelmed  in  death  and  suffocating  guilt,  that  dreary  Alpine  snow-wreath. 

f* 
Pensioner  of  life,  be  wise,  and  heed  a  brother's  counsel, 

1  also  am  a  beadsman,  with  scrip  and  staff  as  thou : 
Wouldest  thou  be  bold  against  the  past,  and  all  its  evil  memories, 
Wouldest  thou  be  safe  amid  the  present,  its  dangers  and  temptations, 
Wouldest  thou  be  hopeful  of  the  future,  vague  though  it  be  and  endless  » 


OF  AUTHORSHIP.  141 

Haste  thee,  repent,  believe,  obey !  thou  etandest  in  the  courage  of  a  legion ; 

Commend  the  Past  to  God,  with  all  its  irrevocable  harm, 

Humbly,  but  in  cheerful  trust,  and  banish  vain  regrets  ; 

Come  to  him,  continually  come,  casting  all  the  Present  at  his  feet, 

Boldly,  but  in  prayerful  love,  and  fling  off  selfish  cares ; 

Commit  the  Future  to  his  will,  the  viewless  fated  Future ; 

Zealously  go  forward  with  integrity,  and  God  will  bless  thy  faith. 

For  that,  feeble  as  thou  art,  there  is  with  thee  a  mighty  Conqueror, 

Thy  friend,  the  same  for  ever,  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow ; 

That  friend,  changeless  as  eternity,  himself  shall  make  thee  friends 

Of  those  thy  foes  transformed,  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow. 


OF   AUTHORSHIP. 

GREAT  is  the  dignity  of  Authorship :  I  magnify  mine  office ; 

Albeit  in  much  feebleness  I  hold  it  thus  unworthily. 

For  it  is  to  be  one  of  a  noble  band,  the  welfare  of  the  world, 

Whose  haunt  is  on  the  lips  of  men,  whose  dwelling  in  their  hearts 

Who  are  precious  in  the  retrospect  of  Memory,  and  walk  among  the  visions 

of.  Hope, 

Who  commune  with  the  good  for  everlasting,  and  call  the  wisest,  brother, 
Whose  voice  hath  burst  the  Silence,  and  whose  light  is  flung  upon  the 

Darkness, 

— Flashing  jewels  on  a  robe  of  black,  and  harmony  bounding  out  of  chaos,— 
Who  gladden  empires  with  their  wisdom,  and  bless  to  the  farthest  gene- 
ration, 

Doers  of  illimitable  good,  gainers  of  inestimable  glory  ! 
We  speak  but  of  the  Magnates,  we  heed  none  humbler  than  the  highest, 
We  take  no  count  of  sorry  scribes,  nor  waste  one  thought  upon  the 

groundlings ; 

Our  eyes  are  lifted  from  the  multitude,  groping  in  the  dark  with  candles, 
To  gaze  upon  that  firmament  of  praise,  the  constellated  lamps  of  learning. 
Ererduring  witnesses  of  Mind,  undisputed  evidence  of  Power, 
Goodly  volumes,  living  stones,  build  up  their  author's  temple  ; 
Though  of  low  estate,  his  rank  is  above  princes, — though  needy,  he  hath 
worship  of  the  rich, 


142  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

When  Genius  unfurleth  on  the  winds  his  banner  as  a  mighty  leader 

Just  in  purpose,  and  seK-possessed  in  soul,  lord  of  many  talents, 

The  mental  Croesus  goeth  forth,  rejoicing  in  his  wealth ; 

Keen  and  clear  perception  gloweth  on  his  forehead  like  a  sunbeam, 

He  readeth  men  at  a  glance,  and  mists  roll  away  before  him ; 

The  wise  have  set  him  as  their  captain,  the  foolish  are  rebuked  at  his 

presence, 
The  excellent  bless  him  with  their  prayers,  and  the  wicked  praise  him  by 

their  curses  ; 

His  voice,  mighty  in  operation,  stirreth  up  the  world  as  a  trumpet, 
And  kings  account  it  honour  to  be  numbered  of  his  friends. 

Rare  is  the  worthiness  of  Authorship  :  I  justify  mine  office ; 

Albeit  fancies  weak  as  mine  credit  not  the  calling. 

For  it  addeth  immortality  to  dying  facts,  that  are  ready  to  vanish  away, 

Embalming  as  in  amber  the  poor  insects  of  an  hour; 

Shedding  upon  stocks  and  stones  the  tender  light  of  interest, 

And  illumining  dark  places  of  the  earth,  with  radiance  of  classic  lustre. 

It  hath  power  to  make  past  things  present,  and  availeth  for  the  present  in 

the  future, 
Delivering  thoughts,  and  words,  and  deeds,  from  the  outer  darkness  of 

oblivion : 

Where  are  the  sages  and  the  heroes,  giants  of  old  time  ? — 
Where  are  the  mighty  kings  that  reigned  before  Agamemnon  ?— 
Alas,  they  lie  unwept,  unhonoured,  hidden  in  the  midnight : 
Alas,  for  they  died  unchronicled  :  their  memorial  perished  with  them. 
Where  are  the  nobles  of  Nineveh,  and  mitred  rulers  of  Babylon  ? 
Where  are  the  lords  of  Edom,  and  the  royal  pontiffs  of  Thebais  ? 
The  golden  Satrap,  and  the  Tetrarch, — the  Hun,  and  the  Druid,  and  the 

Celt? 
The  merchant  princes  of  Phoenicia,  and  the  minds  that  fashioned  Ele- 

phanta  ? 
Alas,  for  the  poet  hath  forgotten  them ;  and  lo !  they  are  outcasts  of 

Memory ; 
Alas,  that  they  are  withered  leaves,  sapless  and  fallen  from  the  chaplet  of 

fame.  * 

Speak,  Etruria,  whose  bones  be  these,  entombed  with  costly  care, — 
Tell  out,  Herculaneum,  the  titles  that  have  sounded  in  those  thy  palaces,— 
Lycian  Zanthus,  thy  citadels  are  mute,  and  the  honour  of  their  architect! 

hath  died ; 


OF  AUTHORSHIP.  143 

Copan  and  Palenque,  dreamy  ruins  in  the  West,  the  forest  hath  swallowea 

up  your  sculptures  ;  (s) 
Syracuse, — how  silent  of  the  past  !• — Carthage,  thou  art  blotted  from  re 

membrance  ! 

Egypt,  wondrous  shores,  ye  are  buried  in  the  sandhills  of  forgetfuhiess ! 
Alas, — for  in  your  glorious  youth,  Time  himself  was  young, 
And  none  durst  wrestle  with  that  Angel,  iron-sinewed  bridegroom  of  Space ; 
So  he  flew  by,  strong  upon  the  wing,  nor  dropped  one  falling  feather, 
Wherewith  some  hoary  scribe  might  register  their  honour  and  renown. 
Beyond  the  broad  Atlantic,  in  the  regions  of  the  setting  sun, 
Ask  of  the  plume-crowned  Incas,  that  ruled  in  old  Peru, — 
Ask  of  grand  Caziques,  and  priests  of  the  pyramids  of  Mexico,— 
Ask  of  a  thousand  painted  tribes,  high  nobility  of  Nature, 
Who,  once,  could  roam  their  own  Elyjian  plains,  free,  generous,  and 

happy, 

Who,  now,  degraded  and  in  exile,  having  sold  their  fatherland  for  nought, 
Sink  and  are  extinguished  in  the  western  seas,  even  as  the  sun  they 

follow, — 

Where  is  the  record  of  their  deeds,  their  prowess  worthy  of  Achilles. 
Nestor's  wisdom,  the  chivalry  of  ManHus,  the  native  eloquence  of  Cicero, 
The  skill  of  Xenophon,  the  spirit  of  Alcibiades,  the  firmness  of  a  Macca- 

baean  mother, 
Brotherly  love  that  Antigone  might  envy,  the  honour  and  the  fortitude  of 

Regulus  ? 

Alas  '  their  glory  and  their  praise  have  vanished  like  a  summer-cloud  ; 
Alas '  that  they  are  dead  indeed ;  they  are  not  written  down  in  the  Book 

of  the  living. 

High  is  the  privilege  of  Authorship  :  I  purify  mine  office ; 

Albeit  earthly  stains  pollute  it  in  my  hands. 

For  it  is  to  the  world  a  teacher  and  a  guide,  Mentor  of  that  gay  Telema- 

chus ; 

Warning,  comforting,  and  helping, — a  lover  and  a  friend  of  Man. 
Heaven's  almoner,  Earth's  health,  patient  minister  of  goodness, 
With  kind  and  zealous  pen,  the  wise  religious  blesseth : 
Nature's  worshipper,  and  neophyte  of  grace,  rich  in  tender  sympathies, 
With  kindled  soul  and  flashing  eye  the  poet  poureth  out  his  heartful : 
Priest  of  truth,  champion  of  innocence,  warder  of  the  gates  of  praise, 
Carefully  with  sifting  search  laboureth  the  pale  historian  : 


144  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Error's  enemy,  ami  acolyte  of  science,  firm  In  sober  argument, 

The  calm  philosopher  rnarshalleth  his  facts,  noting  on  liis  page  thei* 

principles. 

These  pour  mercies  upon  men ;  and  others,  little  less  in  honour, 
By  cheerful  wit  and  graphic  tale  refreshening  the  harassed  spirit. 
But,  there  be  other  some  beside,  buyers  and  sellers  in  the  temple, 
Who  shame  their  high  vocation,  greedy  of  inglorious  gain ; 
There  be,  who,  fabricating  books,  heed  of  them  meanly  as  of  merchandise 
And  seek  nor  use,  nor  truth,  nor  fame,  but  sell  their  minds  for  lucre :         / 
O  false  brethren  !  ye  wot  indeed  the  labour,  but  are  witless  of  the  love  ; 
O  lying  prophets,  chilled  in  soul,  unquickcned  by  the  life  of  inspiration  !— 
And  there  be,  who,  frivolous  and  vain,  seek  to  make  others  foolish, 
ynaring  Youth  by  loose  sweet  song,  and  Age  by  selfish  maxim ; 
Cleverly  heartless,  and  wittily  profane,  they  swell  the  river  of  corruption 
Brilliant  satellites  of  sin, — my  soul,  be  not  found  among  their  company. 
And  there  be,  who,  haters  of  religion,  toil  to  prove  it  priestcraft, 
Owning  none  other  aim  nor  hope,  but  to  confound  the  good  : 
Woe  unto  them !  for  their  works  shall  live ;  yea,  to  their  utter  con 

demnation : 
Woe T  for  their  own  handwriting  shall  testify  against  them  for  ever. 

Pure  is  the  happiness  of  Authorship  :  I  glorify  mine  office  ; 

Albeit  lightly  having  sipped  the  cup  of  its  lower  pleasures. 

For  it  is  to  feel  with  a  father's  heart,  when  he  yearneth  on  the  child  of  Ilia- 
affections  ; 

To  rejoice  in  a  man's  own  miniature  world,  gladdened  by  its  rare  arranges 
ment. 

The  poem,  is  it  not  a  fabric  of  mind  ?  we  love  what  we  create  : 

That  choice  and  musical  order, — how  pleasant  is  the  toil  of  composition ! 

Yea,  when  the  volume  of  the  universe  was  blazoned  out  in  beauty  by  its 
Author, 

God  was  glad,  and  blessed  his  work  ;  for  it  was  very  good. 

And  shau  not  the  image  of  his  Maker  be  liappy  in  his  own  mind's  doing, 

LooKtn#  on  the  structure  he  hath  reared,  gratefully,  with  sweet  com- 
placence ? 

Shall  not  the  Miverva  of  his  brain,  panoplied  and  perfect  in  proportions, 

Gladden  the  soul  and  give  light  unto  the  eyes  of  him  the  travailing  parent  ? 

Go  to  the  sculptor,  and  ask  him  of  his  dreams, — wherefore  are  his  nights  so 
moonlit  ? 


t)F  AUTHORSHIP.  145 

Angel  faces,  and  beautiful  shapes,  fascinate  the  pale  Pygmalion  : 
Go  to  the  painter,  and  trace  his  reveries, — wherefore  are  his  days  so  sunny  ? 
Choice  design  and  skilful  colouring  charm  the  flitting  hours  of  Parrhasius : 
Even  so,  walking  in  his  buoyancy,  intoxicate  with  fairy  fancies, 
The  young  enthusiast  of  authorship  goeth  on  his  way  rejoicing :     • 
Behold, — he  is  gallantly  attended  ;  legions  of  thrilling  thoughts 
Throng  about  the  standard  of  his  mind,  and  call  his  Will  their  captain  ; 
Behold, — his  court  is  as  a  monarches  ;  ideas,  and  grand  imaginations 
Swell,  with  gorgeous  cavalcade,  the  splendour  of  his  Spiritual  State ; 
Behold, — he  is  delicately  served ;  for  oftentimes,  in  solitary  calmness, 
Some  mental  fair  Egeria  smileth  on  her  Nurna's  worslu'p  ; 
Behold, — he  is  happy ;  there  is  gladness  in  his  eye,  and  his  heart  is  a 

sealed  fountain, 
Bounding  secretly  with  joys  unseen,  and  keeping  down  its  ecstasy  of 

pleasure ! 

Yea ;  how  dignified,  ap.d  worthy,  full  of  privilege  and  happiness, 

Standeth  in  majestic  independence  the  self-ennobled  Author  ! 

For  God  hath  blessed  him  with  a  mind,  and  cherished  it  in  tenderness  and 

purity, 
Hath  taught  it  in  the  whisperings  of  wisdom,  and  added  all  the  riches  of 

content: 

Therefore,  leaning  on  his  God,  a  pensioner  for  soul  and  body, 
His  ppirit  is  the  subject  of  none  other,  calling  no  man  Master. 
His  hopes  are  mighty  and  eternal,  scorning  small  ambitions : 
He  hideth  from  the  pettiness  of  praise,  and  pitieth  the  feebleness  of  envy. 
If  he  meet  honours,  well ;  it  may  be  his  humility  to  take  them  : 
If  he  be  rebuked,  better ;  his  veriest  enemy  shall  teach  him. 
For  the  master-mind  hath  a  birthright  of  eminence ;  his  cradle  is  an  eagle's 

eyrie : 

Need  but  to  wait  till  his  wings  are  grown,  and  genius  soareth  to  the  sun : 
To  creeping  things  upoa  the  mountain  leaveth  he  the  gradual  ascent, 
Resting  his  swiftness  on  the  summit  only  for  a  higher  flight. 
Glad  in  clear  good-conscience,  lightly  doth  he  look  for  commendation ; 
What,  if  the  prophet  lacketh  honour  ?  for  he  can  spare  that  praise  : 
The  honest  giant  careth  not  to  be  patted  on  the  back  by  pigmies : 
Flatter   greatness,  he   brooketh  it  good-humouredly :    blame  him, — thon 

tiltest  at  a  pyramid  : 

Yet,  just  censure  of  the  good  never  can  he  hear  without  contrition ; 

7 


146  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Neither  would  he  miss  one  wise  man's  praise,  for  scarce  is  that  jewel  and 
costly. 

Only  for  the  herd  of  common  minds,  and  the  vulgar  trumpetings  of  fame, 

If  aught  he  heedeth  in  the  matter,  his  honour  is  sought  in  their  neglect. 

Slender  is  the  marvel,  and  little  is  the  glory,  when  round  his  luscious 
fruits 

The  worm  and  the  wasp  and  the  multitude  of  flies  are  gathered  as  to  ban- 
quet ;  -. 

Fashion's  freak,  and  the  critical  sting,  and  the  flood  of  flatteries,  he  scorneth ; 

Cheerfully  asking  of  the  crowd  the  favour  to  forget  him  : 

The  while  his  blooming  fruits  ripen  in  richer  fragrance, 

A  feast  for  the  few, — and  the  many  yet  unborn, — who  still  shall  love  theif 
savour. 

So  then,  humbly  with  his  God,  and  proudly  independent  of  his  fellows, 
Walketh,  in  pleasures  multitudinous,  the  man  ennobled  by  his  pen  : 
He  hath  built  up,  glorious  architect,  a  monument  more  durable  than  brass ; 
His  children's  children  shall  talk  of  him  in  love,  and  teach  their  sons  hia 

honour : 

His  dignity  hath  set  him  among  princes,  the  universe  is  debtor  to  his  worth*, 
His  privilege  is  blessing  for  ever,  his  happiness  shineth  now, 
For  he  standeth  of  that  grand  Election,  each  man  one  among  a  thousand, 
Whose  sound  is  gone  out  into  all  lands,  and  their  words  to  the  end  of  the 

world  I 


OF    MYSTERY. 

ALL  things  being  are  in  mystery ;  we  expound  mysteries  by  mysteries ; 

And  yet  the  secret  of  them  all  is  one  in  simple  grandeur  : 

All  intricate,  yet  each  path  plain,  to  those  who  know  the  way ; 

All  unapproachable,  yet  easy  of  access,  to  them  that  hold  the  key  : 

We  walk  among  labyrinths  of  wonder,  but  thread  the  mazes  with  a  clue*. 

We  sail  in  chartless  seas,  but  behold  !  the  pole-star  is  above  us. 

For,  counting  down  from  God's  good-will,  thou  meltest  every  riddle  into 

him, 
The  axiom  of  reason  is  an  undiscovered  God,  and  all  things  live  in  tat 

ubiquity ; 


OF  MYSTERY.  147 

There  is  only  one  great  secret ;  but  that  one  hideth  every  where ; 

How  should  the  infinite  be  understood  in  Time,  when  it  stretcheth  on  un  • 

grasped  for  ever ; 

Can  a  halting  CEdipus  of  earth  guess  that  enigma  of  the  universe  ? 
Not  one  :  the  sword  of  faith  must  cut  tfee  Gordian  knot  of  nature. 

God,  pervading  all,  is  in  all  things  the  mystery  of  each  ; 

The  wherefore  of  its  character  and  essence,  the  fountain  of  its  virtues  and 

its  beauties. 

The  child  asketh  of  its  mother, — Wherefore  is  the  violet  so  sweet  ? 
The  mother  answereth  her  babe, — Darling,  God  hath  willed  it. 
And  sages,  diving  into  science,  have  but  a  profundity  of  words, 
They  track,  for  some  few  links,  the  circling  chain  of  consequence, 
And  then,  after  doubts  and  disputations,  are  left  where  they  began. 
At  the  bald  conclusion  of  a  clown,  things  are  because  they  are. 
Wherefore  are  the  meadows  green,  is  it  not  to  gratify  the  eye  ? 
But  why  should  greenness  charm  the  -eye  ?  such  is  God's  good  will. 
Wherefore  is  the  ear  attuned  to  a  pleasure  in  musical  sounds, 
And  who  set  a  number  to  those  sounds,  and  fixed  the  laws  of  harmony  * 
Who  taught  the  bird  to  build  its  nest,  or  lent  the  shrub  its  life, 
Or  poised  in  the  balances  of  order  the  power  to  attract  and  to  repel  ? 
Who  continueth  the  worlds,  and  the  sea,  and  the  heart  in  motion  ? 
Who  commanded  gravitation  to  tie  down  all  upon  its  sphere  ? — 
For  even  as  a  limestone  cliff  is  an  aggregate  of  countless  shells, 
One  riddle  concrete  of  many,  a  mystery  compact  of  mysteries, 
So  God,  cloudcapped  in  immensity,  standeth  the  cohesion  of  all  things 
And  secrets,  sublimely  indistinct,  permeate  that  Universe,  Himself : 
As  is  the  whole,  so  are  the  parts,  whether  they  be  mighty  or  minute : 
The  sun  is  not  more  unexplained  than  the  tissue  of  an  emmet's  wing 

Thus,  then,  omnipresent  Deity  worketh  his  unbiassed  mind, 

A  mind,  one  in  moral,  but  infinitely  multiplied  in  means : 

And  the  uniform  prudence  of  his  will  cometh  to  be  counted  law, 

Till  mutable  man  fancieth  volition,  stirring  in  the  potter's  clay: 

God,  a  wise  father,  showeth  not  his  reasons  to  his  babes ; 

But  willeth  in  secrecy  and  goodness ;  for  causes  generate  dispute : 

Then  we,  his  darkling  children,  watch  that  invariable  purpose. 

And  invest  the  passive  creature  with  its  Maker's  energy  and  skill. 

Therefore,  they  of  old  time  stopped  short  of  God  in  idols; 


148  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Therefore,  in  these  latter  days,  we  heed  not  the  Jehovah  in  his  works. 

Mystery  is  God's  great  name ;  He  is  the  mystery  of  goodness : 

Some  other,  from  the  hierarelis  of  heaven,  usurped  the  mystery  of  sin. 

God  is  the  King,  yea,  even  of  himself;  he  crowned  himself  with  holiness; 

The  burning  circlet  of  iniquity  another  found  and  wore. 

God  is  separate,  even  from  his  attributes;   but   he  willed  eternally  the 


Therefore  freely,  though  unchangeably,  is  wise,  righteous,  and  loving : 
But  ambition,  open  unto  angels,  saw  the  evil,  flung  aside  from  everlasting: 
It  was  Lucifer  that  saw,  and  nothing  loathed   those  black   unclaimed 

regalia, 

So  he  coveted  and  stole,  to  be  counted  for  a  king,  antagonist  of  God : 
Bui  when  he  touched  the  leprous  robes,  behold,  a  cheated  traitor. 

For  self-existence,  charactered  with  love;  with  power,  wisdom^  and  ubi- 
quity, 

Could  not  dwell  alone,,  but  willed  and  worked  creation. 
Thus  in  continual  exhalation,  darkening  the  void  with  matter, 
Sprang  from  prolific  Deity  the  creatures  of  his  skill ; 
And  beings,  living  on  his  breath,  were  needfully  less  perfect  than  himself, 
Therefore  less  capable  of  bliss,  whereat  his  benevolence  was  bounded ; 
So  to  make  the  capability  expand,  intensely  progressive  to  eternity,     t  . 
He  suffered  darkness  to  illustrate  the  light,  and  pain  to  heighten  pleasure  , 
To  heap  up  happiness  on  souls  he  loved,  allowed  he  sin  and  sorrow, 
And  then  to  guilt  and  grief  and  shame,  he  brought  unbidden  amnesty  : 
Sinless,  none  had  been  redeemed,  nor  wrapt  again  in  God : 
Sorrowless,  no  conflict  had  been  known,  and  heaven  had  been  mulcted  of 

its  comfort : 

Yea,  with  evil  anexhibited,  probationary  toils  unfelt, 
Men  had  not  appreciated  good,  nor  angels  valued  their  security. 
Herein,  to  reason's  eye,  is  revealed  the  mystery  of  goodness, 
Blessing  through  permitted  woe,  and  teaching  by  the  mystery  of  siiK 

O  Chhristian,  whose  chastened  curiosity  loveth  things  mysterious, 
Accounting  them  shadows  and  eclipses  of  Him  the  one  great  light, 
Look  now,  satisfied  with  faith,  en  minds  that  judge  by  sense, 
And  dull  from  contemplating  matter,  take  small  heed  of  spirit. 
Toiling  feebly  upward,  their  argument  tracketh  from  below, 
They  catch  the  latest  consequent,  and  prove  the  nearest  cause : 


OF  MYSTERY.  149 

What  is  this  ?  that  a  seed  produced  a  seed,  and  so  for  a  thousand  seasons. 

Ascend  a  thousand  steps,  thy  ladder  leaveth  thee  in  air : 

Thou  canst  not  climb  to  God,  and  short  of  Him  is  nothing ; 

There  is  no  cause  for  aught  we  see,  but  in  his  present  will. 

Begin  from  the  Maker,  thou  earnest  down  his  attributes  to  reptiles,  * 

The  sharded  beetle  and  the  lizard  live  and  move  in  Him : 

Begin  from  the  creature,  corruption  and  infirmity  mar  thy  foolish  toil : 

Heap  Ossa  on  Olympus, — how  much  art  thou  nearer  to  the  stars  ? 

It  is  easy  running  from  a  mountain's  top  down  to  the  valleys  at  its  foot, 

But  difficult  and  steep  the  laborious  ascent,  and  feebly  shall  thou  reach  it; 

Yet  man,  beginning  from  himself,  that  first  deluding  mystery, 

Hopeth  from  the  pit  of  lies  to  struggle  up  to  truth ; 

So,  taxing  knowledge  to  its  strength,  he  pusheth  one  step  further, 

And  fancieth  complacently  that  much  is  done  by  reaching  a  remote  effect 

Then  he  maketh  answer  to  himself,  as  a  silly  nurse  to  her  little  one, 

Evading,  in  a  mist  of  words,  hard  things  he  cannot  solve ; 

Till,  like  an  ostrich  in  the  desert,  he  burieth  his  head  in  atoms, 

Hoping  that,  if  he  is  blind,  no  sun  can  shine  in  heaven. 

Therefore  cometh  it  to  pass,  that  an  atheist  is  ever  the  most  credulous, 

Snatching  at  any  foolish  cause,  that  may  dispel  his  doubts ; 

And,  even  as  it  were  for  ridicule,  a  spectacle  to  men  and  angels, 

The  captious  and  cautious  unbeliever  is  of  all  men  weakest  to  believe : 

Cut  from  the  anchorage  of  God,  his  bark  is  a  plaything  of  the  billows ; 

The  compass  of  his  principle  is  broken,  the  rudder  of  his  faith  unshipped : 

Chance  and  Fate,  in  a  stultified  antagonism,  govern  all  for  him ; 

Truth  sprang  from  the  conflict  of  falsities,  and  the  multitude  of  accident* 

hath  bred  design ! 

Where  is  the  imposture  so  gross  that  shall  not  entrap  his  curiosity  ? 
What  superstition  is  so  abject  that  it  doth  not  blanch  his  cheek  ? 
Whereof  can  he  be  sure,  with  whom  Chaos  is  substitute  for  Order  ? 
How  should  his  silly  structure  stand,  a  pyramid  built  upon  its  apex  ? 
Yea,  I  have  seen  gray-headed  men,  the  bastard  slips  of  science, 
Go  for  light  to  glowworms,  while  they  scorn  the  sun  at  noon ; 
Men,  who  fear  no  God,  trembling  at  a  gipsy's  curse, 
Men,  who  jest  at  a  revelation,  clinging  to  a  madman's  prophecy ! 

There  is  a  pleasing  dread  in  the  fashion  of  all  mysteries, 

For  hope  is  mixed  therein  and  fear ;  who  shall  divine  their  issup  t 


150  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Even  the  orphan,  wandering  by  night,  lost  on  dreary  moors, 

Is  sensible  of  some  vague  bliss  amidst  his  shapeless  terrors ; 

The  buoyancy  of  instant  expectation,  spurring  on  the  mind  to  venture 

Overbeareth,  in  its  energy,  the  cramp  and  the  chill  of  apprehension. 

There  is  a  solitary  pride,  when  the  heart,  in  new  importance, 

Writeth  gladly  on  its  archives,  the  secrets  none  other  men  have  seen : 

And  there  is  a  caged  terror,  evermore  wrestling  with  the  mind, 

When  crime  hath  whispered  his  confession,  and  the  secrets  are  written 

there  in  blood : 

The  village  maiden  is  elated  at  a  tenderly  confided  tale ; 
The  bandit's  wife  with  sickening  fear  guessed  the  premeditated  murder  j 
The  sage,  with  triumph  on  his  brow,  hideth  his  deep  discovery ; 
The  idlest  clown  shall  delve  all  day  to  find  a  hidden  treasure. 

For  mystery  is  man's  life  ;  we  wake  to  the  whisperings  of  novelty : 
And  what,  though  we  lie  down  disappointed  ?  we  sleep,  to  wake  in  hope. 
The  letter,  or  the  news,  the  chances  and  the  changes,  matters  that  may 

happen, 

Sweeten  or  embitter  daily  life  with  the  honey-gall  of  mystery. 
For  we  walk  blindfold, — and  a  minute  may  be  much, — a  step  may  reach 

the  precipice ; 

What  earthly  loss,  what  heavenly  gain,  may  not  this  day  produce  ? 
Levelled  of  Alps  and  Andes,  without  its  valleys  and  ravines, 
How  dull  the  face  of  earth,  un featured  of  both  beauty  and  sublimity  : 
And  so,  shorn  of  mystery,  beggared  in  its  hopes  and  fears, 
How  flat  the  prospect  of  existence,  mapped  by  intuitive  foreknowledge  ? 
Praise  God,  creature  of  earth,  for  the  mercies  linked  with  secrecy, 
That  spicQs  of  uncertainty  enrich  thy  cup  of  life : 
Praise  God,  his  hosts  on  high,  for  the  mysteries  that  make  all  joy ; 
What  were  intelligence,  with  nothing  more  to  learn,  or  heaven,  in  eternity 

of  sameness  ? 

To  number  every  mystery  were  to  sum  the  sum  of  all  things:  I 

None  can  exhaust  a  theme,  whereof  God  is  example  and  similitude.  J, 

Nevertheless,  take  a'  garland  from  the  garden,  a  handful  from  the  harvest, 
Some  scattered  drops  of  spray  from  the  ceaseless  mighty  cataract. 
Whence  are  we, — whither  do  we  tend, — how  do  we  feel  and  reason  ? 
How  strange  a  thing  is  man,  a  spirit  saturating  clay  ! 
When  doth  soul  make  embryos  immortal, — how  do  they  rank  hereafter, — • 
And  \vilj  the  unconscious  idiot  be  quenched  in  death  as  nothing  ? 


OF  MYSTERY.  151 

In  essence  immaterial,  are  these  minds,  as  it  were  thinking  machines  ? 
For,  to  understand  may  but  rightly  be  to  use  a  mechanism  all  possess, 
So  that  in  reading  or  hearing  of  another,  a  man  shall  seem  unto  himself 
To  be  recollecting  images  or  arguments,  native  and  congenial  to  his  mind  t 
And  yet,  what  shall  we  say, — who  can  aread  the  riddle  ? 
The  brain  may  be  clockwork,  and  mind  its  spring,  mechanism  quickened 
by  a  spirit. 

Who  so  shrewd  as  rightly  to  divide  life,  instinct,  reason ; 

Trees,  zoophytes,  creatures  of  the  plain,  and  savage  man  among  them  ? 

Hath  the  mimosa  instinct, — or  the  scallop  more  than  life, — 

Or  the  dog  less  than  reason, — or  the  brute  man  more  than  instinct  ? 

What  is  the  cause  of  health, — and  the  gendering  of  disease  ? 

Why  should  arsenic  kill, — and  whence  is  the  potency  of  antidotes  ? 

Behold,  a  morsel, — eat  and  die  ;  the  term  of  thy  probation  is  expired 

Behold,  a  potion — drink  and  be  alive ;  the  limit  of  thy  trial  is  enlarged. 

Who  can  expound  beauty  ?  or  explain  the  character  of  nations? 

Who  will  furnish  a  cause  for  the  epidemic  force  of  fashion  ? 

Is  there  a  moral  magnetism  living  in  the  light  of  example  ? 

Is  practice  electricity  ? — Yet  all  these  are  but  names. 

Doth  normal  Art  imprison,  in  its  works,  spirit  translated  into  substance. 

So  that  the  statue,  the  picture,  or  the  poem,  are  crystals  of  the  mind  ? 

And  doth  Philosophy  with  sublimating  skill  stored  away  the  matter, 

Till  rarefied  intelligence  exudeth  even  out  of  stocks  and  stones  ? 

O  mysteries,  ye  all  are  one,  the  mind  of  an  inexplicable  Architect 
Dwelleth  alike  in  each,  quickening  and  moving  in  them  all. 
Fields,  and  forests,  and  cities  of  men,  their  woes,  and  wealth,  and  works, 
And  customs,  and  contrivances  of  life,  with  all  we  see  and  knew, 
For  a  little  way,  a  little  while,  ye  hang  dependent  on  each  other, 
But  all  are  held  in  one  right  hand,  and  by  His  will  ye  are. 
Here  is  answer  unto  mystery,  an  unintelligible  God, 
This  is  the  end  and  the  beginning,  it  is  reason  that  He  be  not  understood. 
Therefore  it  were  probable  and  just,  even  to  a  man's  weak  thinking, 
To  have  one  for  God  who  always  may  be  learnt,  yet  never  fully  known  : 
That  He,  from  whom  all  mysteries  spring,  in  whom  they  all  converge, 
Throned  in  his  sublimity  beyond  the  grovellings  of  lower  intellect, 
Should  claim  to  be  truer  than  man's  truest,  the  boasted  certainty  of  numbers, 
Should  baffle  his  arithmetic,  confound  his  demonstrations,  and  paralyze  the 
might  of  his  necessity, 


152  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Standing   supreme  as  the  mystery  of  mysteries,  every  where,  yet  fa* 

personate, 
Essential  one  in  three,  essential  three  in  one ! 


OF   GIFTS. 

I  HAD  a  seeming  friend ; — I  gave  him  gifts,  and  he  was  gone ; 
I  had  an  open  enemy  ; — I  gave  him  gifts,  and  won  him  ; 
Common  friendship  standeth  on  equalities,  and  cannot  bear  a  debt; 
But  the  very  heart  of  hate  melteth  at  a  good  man's  'love  : 
Go  to,  then,  thou  that  sayest, — I  will  give  and  rivet  the  links : 
For  pride  shall  kick  at  obligation,  and  push  the  giver  from  him. 
The  covetous  spirit  may  rejoice,  revelling  in  thy  largess, 
But  chilling  selfishness  will  mutter, — I  must  give  again: 
The  vain  heart  may  be  glad,  in  this  new  proof  of  man's  esteem, 
But  the  same  idolatry  of  self  abhorreth  thoughts  of  thanking. 

Nevertheless,  give ;  for  it  shall  be  a  discriminative  test, 

Separating  honesty  from  falsehood,  weeding  insincerity  from  friendship 

Give,  it  is  like  God ;  thou  weariest  the  bad  with  benefits : 

Give,  it  is  like  God ;  thou  gladdenest  the  good  by  gratitude. 

Give  to  thy  near  of  kin,  for  Providence  hath  stationed  thee  his  helper : 

Yet  see  that  he  claim  not  as  his  right,  thy  freewill  offering  of  duty. 

Give  to  the  young,  they  love  it ;  neither  hath  the  poison  of  suspicion 

Spoilt  the  flavour  of  their  thanks,  to  look  for  latent  motives. 

Give  to  merit,  largely  give ;  his  conscious  heart  will  bless  thee  : 

It  is  not  flattery,  but  love, — the  sympathy  of  men  his  brethren. 

Give,  for  encouragement  in  good  ;  the  weak  desponding  mind 

Hath  many  foes,  and  much  to  do,  and  leaneth  on  its  friends. 

Yet  heed  thou  wisely  these ;  give  seldom  to  thy  better ; 

For  such  obtrusive  boon  shall  savour  of  presumption ; 

Or,  if  his  courteous  bearing  greet  thy  proffered  kindness, 

Shall  not  thine  independent  honesty  be  vexed  at  the  semblance  of  a  bribe  t 

Moreover,  heed  thou  this ;  give  to  thine  equal  charily, 

The  occasion  fair  and  fitting,  the  gift  well  chosen  and  desired  : 


OF  GIFTS.  153 

Hath  he  been  prosperous  and  blest  ?  a  flower  may  show  thy  gladness ; 
Is  he  in  need  ?  with  liberal  love,  tender  him  the  well-filled  purse : 
Disease  shall  welcome  friendly  care  in  grapes  and  precious  unguents ; 
And  where  a  darling  child  hath  died,  give  praise,  and  hope,  and  sympathy , 
Yet  once  more,  heed  thou  this ;  give  to  the  poor  discreetly, 
Nor  suffer  idle  sloth  to  lean  upon  thy  charitable  arm  : 
To  diligence  give,  as  to  an  equal,  on  just  and  fit  occasion ; 
Or  he  bartereth  his  hard-earned  self-reliance  for  the  casual  lottery  of  gifts ; 
The  timely  loan  hath  added  nerve,  where  easy  liberality  would  palsy ; 
Work  and  wages  make  a  light  heart :  but  the  mendicant  asketh  with  a 

heavy  spirit. 

A  man's  own  self  respect  is  worth  unto  him  more  than  money, 
And  evil  is  the  charity  that  humbleth,  and  maketh  man  less  happy. 

There  are  who  sow  liberalities,  to  reap  the  like  again ; 

But  men  accept  his  boon,  scorning  the  shallow  usurer ; 

I  have  known  many  such  a  fisherman  lose  his  golden  baits ; 

And  oftentimes  the  tame  decoy  escapeth  with  the  flock.  ,:w 

Yea,  there  are  who  give  unto  the  poor,  to  gain  large  interest  of  God : 

Fool, — to  think  His  wealth  is  money,  and  not  mind : 

And  haply  after  thine  alms,  thy  calculated  givings, 

The  hurricane  shall  blast  thy  crops,  and  sink  the  homeward  snip ; 

Then  shall  thy  worldly  soul  murmur  that  the  balances  were  false, 

Thy  trader's  mind  shall  think  of  God, — He  stood  not  to  his  bargain ! 

Give,  saith  the  preacher,  be  large  in  liberality,  yield  to  the  holy  impulse, 
Tarry  not  for  cold  consideration,  but  cheerfully  and  freely  scatter  ; 
So,  for  complacency  of  conscience,  in  a  gush  of  counterfeited  charity, 
He  that  hath  not  wherewith  to  be  just,  selfishly  presumeth  to  be  generous ; 
The  debtor,  and  the  rich  by  wrong,  are  known  among  the  band  of  the  be- 
nevolent ; 

And  men  extol  the  noble  hearts,  who  rob  that  they  may  give. 
Receivers  are  but  little  prone  to  challenge  rights  of  giving, 
Nor  stop  to  test,  for  conscience-sake,  the  righteousness  of  mammon : 
And  the  zealot  in  a  cause  is  a  receiver,  at  the  hand  which  bettereth  his 

cause ; 

And  thus  an  unsuspected  bribe  shall  blind  the  good  man's  judgment : 
It  is  easy  to  excuse  greatness,  and  the  rich  are  readily  forgiven : 
What,  if  his  gains  were  evil,  sanctified  by  using  them  aright  ? 

7** 


154  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

O  shallow  flatterer,  self-interest  is  thy  thought, 

Hopeless  of  partaking  in  the  like,  thou  too  wouldest  scorn  the  giver. 

Money  hath  its  value ;  and  the  scatterer  thereof  his  thanks : 

Few  men,  drinking  at  a  rivulet,  stop  to  consider  its  source. 

The  hand  that  closeth  on  an  aim,  be  it  for  necessities  or  zeal, 

Hath  small  scruple  whence  it  came  :  Vespasian  rejoiceth  in  his  tribute ; 

Therefore  have  colleges  and  hospitals  risen  upon  orphans'  wrongs, 

Chapels  and  cathedrals  have  thriven  on  the  welcome  wages  of  iniquity, 

And  fraud,  in  evil  compensation,  hath  salved  his  guilty  conscience, 

Not  by  restoring  to  the  cheated,  but  by  ostentatious  giving  to  the  grateful. 

So,  those  who  reap  rejoice  ;  and  reaping,  bless  the  sower : 

No  one  is  eager  to  discover,  where  discovery  tendeth  unto  loss;  9 

Yet,  if  knowledge  of  a  theft  make  gainers  thereby  guilty, 

Can  he  be  altogether  innocent  who  never  asked  the  honesty  of  gain  ? 

Therefore,  O  preacher,  zealous  for  charity,  temper  thy  warm  appeal, — 

Warning  the  debtor  and  unjustly  rich,  they  may  not  dare  to  give : 

To  do  good  is  a  privilege  and  guerdon :  how  shouldest  thou  rejoice 

If  ill-got  gifts  of  presumptuous  fraud  be  offered  on"the  altar  ? 

The  question  is  not  of  degrees  ;  unhallowed  alms  are  evil  : 

Discourage  and  reject  alike  the  obolus  or  talent  of  iniquity., 

Yet  more,  be  careful  that,  unworthily,  thou  gain  not  an  advantage  over 

weakness, 

Unstable  souls,  fervent  and  profuse,  fluttered  by  the  feeling  of  the  moment-: 
For  eloquence  swayeth  to  its  will  the  feeble  and  the  conscious  of  defect : 
Rashly  give  they,  and  afterwards  are  sad, — a  gift  that  doubly  erred. 
It  was  the  worldliness  of  priestcraft  that  accounted  almsgiving  for  charity; 
And  many  a  father's  penitence  hath  steeped  his  son  in  penury : 
Yet,  considered  he  lightly  the  guilt  of  a  deathbed  selfishness 
That  strove  to  take  with  him,  for  gain,  the  gold  no  longer  his ; 
So  he  died  in  a  false  peace,  and  dying  robbed  his  kindred  ; 
The  cunning  friar  at  his  side  having  cheated  both  the  living  and  the  dead 

Charity  sitteth  on  a  fair  hill-top,  blessing  far  and  near, 
But  her  garments  drop  ambrosia,  chiefly  on  the  violets  around  her : 
She  gladdeneth  indeed  the  maplike  scene,  stretching  to  the  verge  of  the 
horizon. 


OF  GIFTS.  155 

For  her  angel  face  is  lustrous  and  beloved,  even  as  the  moon  in  heaven . 
But  the  light  of  that  beatific  vision  gloweth  in  serener  concentration, 
•The  nearer  to  her  heart,  and  nearer  to  her  home, — that  hill-top  where  she 

sitteth : 

Therefore  is  she  kind  unto  her  kin,  yearning  in  affection  on  her  neighbours, 
Giving  Gifts  to  those  around  who  know  and  love  her  well. 
But  the  counterfeit  of  charity,  an  hypocrite  of  earth,  not  a  grace  of  heaven, 
Seeketh  not  to  bless  at  home,  for  her  nearer  aspect  is  ill-favoured  : 
Therefore  hideth  she  for  shame,  counting  that  pride  humility, 
And  none  of  those  around  her  hearth  are  gladdened  by  her  gifts : 
Rather,  with  an  overreaching  zeal,  flingeth  she  her  bounty  to  the  stranger, 
And  scattered  prodigalities  abroad  compensate  for  meanness  in  her  home  ; 
For  benefits  showered  on  the  distant  shine  in  unmixed  beauty, 
So  that  even  she  may  reap  their  undiscerning  praise  : 
Therefore  native  want  hath  pined,  where  foreign  need  was  fattened  ; 
Woman  been  Crushed  by  the  tyrannous  hand  that  upheld  the  flag  of  lib- 
erality ; 

Poverty  been  prisoned  up  and  starved  by  hearts  that  are  maudlin  upon  crime 
And  freeborn  babes  been  manacled  by  men  who  liberate  the  sturdy  slave. 

Policy  counselleth  a  gift,  given  wisely  and  in  season, 

And  policy  afterward  approveth  it,  for  great  is  the  influence  of  gifts. 

The  lover,  unsmiled  upon  before,  is  welcomed  for  his  jewelled  bauble ; 

The  righteous  cause  without  a  fee  must  yield  to  bounteous  guilt  : 

How  fair  is  a  man  in  thine  esteem  whose  just  discrimination  seeketh  thee, 

And  so,  discerning  merit,  honoureth  it  with  gifts  ! 

Yea,  let  the  cause  appear  sufficient,  and  the  motive  clear  and  unsuspicious, 

As  given  unto  one  who  cannot  help,  or  proving  honest  thanks, 

There  liveth  not  one  among  a  million  who  is  proof  against  the  charm  of 

liberaKty, 
And  flattery,  that  boon  of  praise,  hath  power  with  the  wisest. 

Man  is  of  three  natures,  craving  all  for  charity  : 

It  is  not  enough  to  give  him  meats,  withholding  other  comfort  ; 

For  the  mind  starveth,  and  the  soul  is  scorned,  and  so  the  human  animal 

Eateth  its  unsatisfying  pittance,  a  thankless,  heartless  pauper: 

Yet  would  he  bless  thee  and  be  grateful,  didst  thou  feed  his  spirit, 

And  teacn  him  that  thine  almsgivings  are  charities,  are  loves. 

— I  saw  a  beggar  in  the  street,  and  another  beggar  pitied  him ; 


156  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Sympathy  sank  into  his  soul,  and  the  pitied  one  felt  happier : 
Anon  passed  by  a  cavalcade,  children  of  wealth  and  gayety  ; 
They  laughed  and  looked  upon  the  beggar,  and  the  gallants  flung  him 

gold ; 

He,  poor  spirit-humbled  wretch,  gathered  up  their  givings  with  a  curse 
And  went — to  share  it  with  his  brother,  the  beggar  who  had  pitied  him ' 


OF    BEAUTY. 

THOU  mightier  than  Manoah's  son,  whence  is  thy  great  strength, 
And  wherein  the  secret  of  thy  craft,  O  charmer  charming  wisely  ?— 
For  thou  art  strong  in  weakness,  and  in  artlessness  well-skilled, 
Constant  in  the  multitudes  of  change,  and  simple  amidst  intricate  com 

plexity. 

Folly's  shallow  lip. can  ask  the  deepest  question, 
And  many  wise  in  many  words  should  answer,  what  is  beauty  ? 
Who  shall  separate  the  hues  that  flicker  on  a  dying  dolphin, 
Or  analyze  the  jewelled  lights  that  deck  the  peacock's  train, 
Or  shrewdly  mix  upon  a  pallette  the  tints  of  an  iridescent  spar 
Or  set  in  rank  the  wandering  shades  about  a  watered  silk  ? 

For  beauty  is  intangible,  vague,  ill  to  be  defined : 

She  hath  the  coat  of  a  chameleon,  changing  while  we  watch  it. 

Strangely  woven  is  the  web,  disorderly  yet  harmonious, 

A  glistening  robe  of  mingled  mesh,  that  may  not  be  unravelled. 

It  is  shot  with  heaven's  blue,  the  soul  of  summer  skies, 

And  twisted  strings  of  light,  the  mind  of  noonday  suns, 

And  ruddy  gleams  of  life,  that  roll  along  the  veins, 

A  coat  of  many  colours,  running  curiously  together. 

There  is  threefold  beauty  for  man  ;  twofold  beauty  for  the  animal ;  " 

And  the  beauty  of  inanimates  is  single :  body,  temper,  spirit. 

Multiplied  in  endless  combination,  issue  the  changeable  results  ; 

Each  class  verging  on  the  other  twain,  with  imperceptible  gradation  , 

And  every  individual  in  each  having  his  propriety  of  difference, 

So  that  the  meanest  of  creation  bringeth  in  a  tribute  of  the  beautiful. 


OF  BEAUTY,  157 

Yea,  from  the  worst  in  favour  shineth  out  a  fitness  of  design, 
The  patent  mark  of  beauty,  its  Maker's  name  imprest. 
For  the  great  Creator's  seal  is  set  to  all  his  works  ; 
Its  quarterings  are  Attributes  of  praise,  and  all  the  shield  is  beauty. 
So,  that  heraldic  blazon  is  Creation's  common  signet ; 
And  the  universal  family  of  life  goeth  in  the  colours  of  its  Lord ; 
But  each  one,  as  a  several  son,  shall  bear  those  arms  with  a  difference : 
Beauty  various  in  phase,  and  similar  in  seeming  oppositions. 
The  coins  of  old  Rome  were  struck  with  a  diversity  for  each, 
Barely  two  be  found  alike  in  every  Cesar's  image  : 
So,  note  thou  the  seals,  ranged  around  the  charters  of  the  Universe, 
The  finger  of  God  is  the  stamp  upon  them  all,  but  each  hath  -its  separata 
variety. 

Beauty,  theme  of  innocence,  how  may  guilt  discourse  thee  ? 

Let  holy  angels  sing  thy  praise,  for  man  hath  marred  thy  visage. 

Still,  the  maimed  torso  of  a  Theseus  can  gladden  taste  with  its  proportions  • 

Though  sin  hath  shattered  every  limb,  how  comely  are  the  fragments ! 

And  music  leaveth  on  the  ear  a  memory  of  sweet  sounds  ;      • 

And  broken  arches  charm  the  sight  with  hints  of  fair  completeness. 

So,  while  humbled  at  the  ruin,  be  thou  grateful  for  the  relics  ; 

Go  forth,  and  look  on  all  around  with  kind  uncaptious  eye : 

Freely  let  us  wander  through  these  unfrequented  ways, 

And  talk  of  glorious  beauty  filling  all  the  world. 

For  beauty  hideth  every  where,  that  Reason's  child  may  seek  her, 
And  having  found  the  gem  of  price,  may  set  it  in  God's  crown. 
Beauty  nestleth  in  the  rosebud,  or  walketh  the  firmament  with  planets, 
She  is  heard  in  the  beetle's  evening  hymn,  and  shouteth  in  the  matins  of 

the  sun  ; 
The  cheek  of  the  peach  is  glowing  with  her  smile,  her  splendour  blazeth 

in  the  lightning, 

She  is  the  dryad  of  the  woods,  the  naiad  of  the  streams ; 
Her  golden  hair  hath  tapestried  the  silkworm's  silent  chamber, 
And  to  her  measured  harmonies  the  wild  waves  beat  in  time  : 
With  tinkling  feet  at  eventide  she  danceth  in  the  meadow, 
Or,  like  a  Titan,  lieth  stretched  athwart  the  ridgy  Alps ; 
She  is  rising  in  her  veil  of  mist  a  Venus  from  the  waters, — 
Men  gaze  upon  the  loveliness, — and  lo,  it  is  beautiful  exceedingly ; 


158  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

She,  with  the  might  of  a  Briareus,  is  dragging  down  the  clouds  upon  the 

mountain, — 

Men  look  upon  the  grandeur, — and  lo,  it  is  excellent  in  glory. 
For  I  judge  that  beauty  and  sublimity  be  but  the  lesser  and  the  great, 
Sublime,  as  magnified  to  giants,  and  beautiful,  diminished  into  fairies. 
It  were  a  false  fancy  to  solve  all  beauty  by  desire, 
It  were  a  lowering  thought  to  expound  sublimity  by  dread. 
Cowardly  men  with  trembling  hearts  have  feared  the  furious  storm, 
Nor  felt  its  thrilling  beauty  :  but  is  it  then  not  beautiful  ? 
And  careless  men,  at  summer's  eve,  have  loved  the  dimpled  waves ; 
O  that  smile  upon  the  seas, — hath  it  no  sublimity  ? 
Dost  thou  nothing  know  of  this, — to  be  awed  at  woman's  beauty  ? 
Nor,  with  exhilarated  heart,  to  hail  the  crashing  thunder  ? 
Thou  hast  much  to  learn,  that  never  found  a  fearfulness  in  flowers, 
Thou  hast  miased  of  joy,  that  never  basked  in  beauties  of  the  terrible. 

Show  me  an  enthusiast  in  aught ;  he  hath  noted  one  thing  narrowly ; 

And  lo,  his  keenness  hath  detected  the  one  dear'hiding-place  of  beauty. 

Then  he  boastcth,  simple  soul,  nattered  by  discovery, 

Fancying  that  no  science  else  can  show  so  fair  and  precious  : 

He  hath  found  a  ray  of  light,  and  cherisheth  the  treasure  in  his  closet, 

Mocking  at  those  larger  minds,  that  bathe  in  'flooods  of  noon  ; 

Lo,  what  a  jewel  hath  he  gotten, — this  is  the  monopolist  of  beauty,— 

A.nd  lightly  heeding  all  beside,  he  poured  his  yearnings  thitherward : 

Be  it  for  love,  or  for  learning,  habit,  art,  or  nature, 

Exclusive  thought  is  all  the  cause  of  this  particular  zeal. 

iJut  the  like  intensity  of  fitness,  kind  and  skilful  beauty, 

So  pleasant  to  his  mind  in  one  thing,  filleth  all  beside : 

From  the  waking  minute  of  a  chrysalis  to  the  perfect  cycle  of  chronology, 

From  the  centipede's  jointed  armour  to  the  mammoth's  fossil  ribs, , 

From  the  kingfisher's  shrill  note  to  the  cataract's  thundering  bass, 

From  the  greensward's  grateful  hues  to  the  fascinating  eye  of  woman, 

Beauty,  various  in  all  things,  setteth  up  her  home  in  each, 

Shedding  graciously  around  -an  omnipresent  smile. 

There  is  beauty  in  the  rolling  clouds,  and  placid  shingle  beach, 
In  feathery  snows,  and  whistling  winds,  and  dun  electric  skies ; 
There  is  beauty  in  the  rounded  woods,  dank  with  heavy  foliage, 
In  laughing  fields,  and  dinted  hills,  the  valley  and  its  lake ; 


OF  BEAUTY.  159 

There  is  beauty  in  the  gullies,  beauty  on  the  cliffs,  beauty  in  sun  and 

shade, 
In  rocks  and  rivers,  seas  and  plains, — the  earth  is  drowned  in  beauty. 

Beauty  coileth  with  the  water-snake,  and  is  cradled  in  the  shrewmouse'a 

nest, 

She  flitteth  out  with  evening  bats,  and  the  soft  mole  hid  her  in  his  tunnel ; 
The  limpet  is  encamped  upon  the  shore,  and  beauty  not  a  stranger  to  his 

tent; 

The  silvery  dace  and  golden  carp  thread  the  rushes  with  her : 
She  saileth  into  clouds  with  an  eagle,  she  fluttereth  into  tulips  with  a 

humming-bird  ; 
The  pasturing  kine  are  of  her  company,  and  she  prowleth  with  the  leopard 

in  his  jungle. 

Moreover,  for  the  reasonable  world,  its  words,  and  acts,  and  speculation, 

For  frail  and  fallen  manhood,  in  every  work  and  way 

Beauty,  wrecked  and  stricken,  lingereth  still  among  us, 

And  morsels  of  that  shattered  sun  are  dropt  upon  the  darkness. 

Yea,  with  savages  and  boors,  the  mean,  the  cruel,  and  besotted, 

Ever  in  extenuating  grace  hide  some  relics  of  the  beautiful. 

Gleams  of  kindness,  deeds  of  courage,  patience,  justice,  generosity, 

Truth  welcomed,  knowledge  prized,  rebukes  taken  with  contrition, 

All  in  various  measure,  have  been  blest  with  some  of  these, 

And  never  yet  hath  lived  the  man  utterly  beggared  of  the  beautiful. 

Beauty  is  as  crystal  in  the  torchlight,  sparkling  on  the  poet's  page ; 

Virgin  honey  of  Hymettus,  distilled  from  the  lips  of  the  orator ; 

A  savour  of  sweet  spikenard,  anointing  the  hands  of  liberality ; 

A  feast^f  angels'  food  set  upon  the  tables  of  religion. 

She  is  seen  in  the  tear  of  sorrow,  and  heard  hi  the  exuberance  of  mirth  j 

She  goetli  out  early  with  the  huntsman,  and  watcheth  at  the  pillow  of 

disease. 

Science,  in  his  secret  laws,  hath  found  out  latent  beauty, 
Sphere  and  square,  and  cone  and  curve,  are  fashioned  by  her  rules : 
Mechanism  met  her  in  his  forces,  fancy  caught  her  in  its  flittings, 
I)ay  is  lightened  by  her  eyes,  and  her  eyelids  close  upon  the  night. 

Beauty  is  dependence  in  the  babe,  a  toothless  tender  nursling ; 


160  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Beauty  is  boldness  in  the  boy,  a  curly  rosy  truant ; 
Beauty  is  modesty  and  grace  in  fair  retiring  girlhood, 
Beauty  is  openness  and  strength  in  pure  high-minded  youth ; 
Man,  the  noble  and  intelligent,  gladdeneth  earth  in  beauty, 
And  woman's  beauty  sunneth  him,  as  with  a  smile  from  heaven. 

There  is  none  enchantment  against  beauty,  Magician  for  all  time, 

Whose  potent  spells  of  sympathy  have  charmed  the  passive  world : 

Verily,  she  reigneth  a  Semiramis ;  there  is  no  might  against  her ; 

The  lords  of  every  land  are  harnessed  to  her  triumph. 

Beauty  is  conqueror  of  all,  nor  ever  yet  was  found  among  the  nations 

That  iron-moulded  mind,  full  proof  against  her  power. 

Beauty,  like  a  summer's  day,  subdueth  by  sweet  influences  ; 

Who  can  wrestle  against  Sleep  ? — yet  is  that  giant  very  gentleness. 

Ajax  may  rout  a  phalanx,  but  beauty  shall  enslave  him  single-handed : 

Pericles  ruled  Athens,  yet  is  he  the  servant  of  Aspasia : 

Light  were  the  labour,  and  often-told  the  tale,  to  count  the  victories  of 

beauty, — 

Helen,  and  Judith,  and  Omphale,  and  Thais,  many  a  trophied  name, 
At  a  glance  the  misanthrope  was  softened,  and  repented  of  his  vows : 
When  beauty  asked,  he  gave,  and  banned  her — with  a  blessing ; 
The  cold  ascetic  loved  the  smile  that  lit  his  dismal  tell, 
And  kindly  stayed  her  step,  and  wept  when  she  departed ; 
The  bigot  abbess  felt  her  heart  gush  with  a  mother's  feeling,, 
When  looking  on  some  lovely  face  beneath  the  cloister's  shade ; 
Usury  freed  her  without  ransom :  the  buccaneer  was  gentle  in  her  presence: 
Madness  kissed  her  on  the  cheeek,  and  Idiocy  brightened  at  her  coming : 
Yea,  the  very  cattle  in  the  field,  and  hungry  prowlers  of  the  forest, 
With  fawning  homage  greeted  her,  as  beauty  glided  by.  ^ 

A  welcome  guest,  unbidden,  she  is  dear  to  every  hearth ; 
A  glad  spontaneous  growth  of  friends  are  springing  round  her  rest : 
Learning  sitteth  at  her  feet,  and  Idleness  laboureth  to.  please  her ; 
Folly  hath  flung  aside  his  bells,  and  leaden  Dullness  gloweth ; 
Prudence  is  rash  in  her  defence  ;  Frugality  filleth  her  with  riches  ; 
Despair  came  to  her  for  counsel ;  and  Bereavement  was  glad  when  she 

consoled ; 

Justice  putteth  up  his  sword  at  the  tear  of  supplicating  beauty, 
And  Mercy,  v/ith  indulgent  haste,  hath  pardoned  beauty's  sin. 


OF  BEAUTY.  161 

For  beauty  is  the  substitute  for  all  things,  satisfying  every  absence, 

The  rich  delirious  cup,  to  make  all  else  forgotten ; 

She  also  is  the  zest  unto  all  things,  enhancing  every  presence. 

The  rare  and  precious  ambergris,  to  quicken  each  perfume. 

O  beauty,  thou  art  eloquent ;  yea,  though  slow  of  tongue, 

Thy  breast,  fair  Phryne,  pleaded  well  before  the  dazzled  judge ; 

O  beauty,  thou  art  wise ;  yea,  though  teaching  falsely, 

Sages  listen,  sweet  Corinna,  to  commend  thy  lips ;  (') 

O  beauty,  thou  art  ruler ;  yea,  though  lowly  as  a  slave, 

Myrrha,  that  imperial  brow  is  monarch  of  thy  lord  ; 

O  beauty,  thou  art  winner ;  yea,  though  halting  in  the  race, 

Hippodame,  Camilla,  Atalanta, — in  gracefulness  ye  fascinate  your  umpires ; 

O  beauty,  thou  art  rich ;  yea,  though  clad  in  russet, 

Attalus  cannot  boast  his  gold  against  the  wealth  of  beauty  ; 

O  beauty,  thou  art  noble ;  yea,  though  Esther  be  an  exile, 

Set  her  up  on  high,  ye  kings,  and  bow  before  the  majesty  of  beauty !   ' 

Friend  and  scholar,  who,  in  charity,  hast  walked  with  me  thus  far, 
We  have  wandered  in  a  wilderness  of  sweets,  tracking  beaut/ '«  foot- 
steps : 

And  ever  as  we  rambled  on  among  the  tangled  thicket, 
Many  a  startled  thought  hath  tempted  further  roaming ; 
Passion,  sympathetic  influence,  might  of  imaginary  halos, — 
Many  the  like  would  lure  aside,  to  hunt  their  wayward  themes. 
And,  look  you  ! — from  his  ferny  bed  in  yonder  hazel  coppice, 
A  dappled  hart  hath  flung  aside  the  boughs  and  broke  away ; 
He  is  fleet  and  capricious  as  the  zephyr,  and  with  exulting  bounds 
Hietli  down  a  turfy  lane  between  the  sounding  woods ; 
His  neck  is  garlanded  with  flowers,  his  antlers  hung  with  chaplets, 
And  rainbow-coloured  ribbons  stream  adown  his  mottled  flanks  : 
Should  we  follow  ? — foolish  hunters  thus  to  chase  afoot, — 
Who  can  track  the  airy  speed  and  doubling  wiles  of  Taste  ? 

For  the  estimates  of  human  beauty,  dependent  upon  time  and  clime, 
Manifold  and  changeable,  are  multiplied  the  more  by  strange  gregarious 

fashion : 

And  notable  ensamples  in  the  great  turn  to  epidemics  in  the  lower, 
So  that  a  nation's  taste  shall  vary  with  its  rulers. 
Stern  Egypt,  humbled  to  the  Greek,  fancied  softer  idols ; 


162  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Greece,  the  Roman  province,  nigh  forgat  her  classic  sculpture  ; 

Rome,  crushed  beneath  the  Goth,  loved  his  barbarian  habits  ; 

And  Alaric,  with  his  ruffian  horde,  is  tamed  by  silken  Rome. 

Columbia's  flattened  head,  and  China's  crumpled  feet, — 

The  civilized  tapering  waist, — and  the  pendulous  ears  of  the  savage, — 

The  swollen  throat  among  the  mountains,  and  an  ebon  skin  beneath  the 

tropics, — 

These  shall  all  be  reckoned  beauty  ;  and  for  weighty  cause  : 
First,  for  the  latter ;  Providence  in  mercy  tempereth  taste  by  circumstance, 
So  that  Nature's  must  shall  hit  her  creature's  liking ; 
Second,  for  the  middle ;  though  the  foolishness  of  vanity  seek  to  mar 

proportion, 

Still,  defects  in  those  we  love  shall  soon  be  counted  praise  ; 
Third,  for  the  first ;  a  chief  and  a  princess,  maimed  or  distorted  from  the 

cradle, 

Shall  coax  the  flattery  of  slaves  to  imitate  the  great  in  their  deformity ; 
Hence  groweth  habit ;  and  habits  make  a  taste, 
And  so  shall  servile  zeal  deface  the  types  of  beauty. 
Whiles  Alexander  conquered,  crookedness  was  comely  ; 
And  followers  learn  to  praise  the  scars  upon  their  leader's  brow. 
Youth  hath  sought  to  flatter  Age  by  mimicking  gray  hairs ; 
Age  plastereth  her  wrinkles,  and  is  painted  in  the  ruddiness  of  Youth. 
Fashion,  the  parasite  of  Rank,  apeth  faults  and  failings, 
Until  the  general  Taste  depraved  hath  warped  its  sense  of  beauty. 

Each  man  hath  a  measure  for  himself,  yet  all  shall  coincide  in  much ; 

A  perfect  form  of  human  grace  would  captivate  the  world ; 

Be  it  manhood's  lustre,  or  the  loveliness  of  woman,  all  would  own  its 

beauty, 
The  Caffre  and  Circassian,  Russians  and  Hindoos,  the  Briton,  the  Turk 

and  Japanese. 

Not  all  alike,  nor  all  at  once,  but  each  in  proportion  to  intelligence, 
His  purer  state  in  morals,  and  a  lesser  grade  in  guilt : 
For  the  high  standard  of  the  beautiful  is  fixed  in  Reason's  forum, 
And  sins,  and  customs,  and  caprice,  have  failed  to  break  it  down : 
And  reason's  standard  for  the  creature  pointeth  three  perfections, 
Frame,  knowledge,- and  the  feeling  heart,  well  and  kindly  mingled : 
A  fair  dwelling,  furnished  wisely,  with  a  gentle  tenant  in  it,— 
This  is  the  glory  of  humanity :  thou  hast  seen  it  seldom. 


OF  BEAUTY.  163 

There  is  a  beauty  of  the  body ;  the  superficial  polish  of  a  statue, 

The  symmetry  of  form  and  feature,  delicately  carved  and  painted. 

How  bright  in  early  bloom  the  Georgian  sitteth  at  her  lattice, 

How  softened  off  in  graceful  curves  her  young  and  gentle  shape  • 

Those  dark  eyes,  lit  by  curiosity,  flash  beneath  the  lashes, 

And  still  her  velvet  cheek  is  dimpled  with  a  smile. 

Dost  thou  count  her  beautiful  ? — even  as  a  mere  fair  figure, 

A  plastic  image,  little  more. — the  outer  garb  of  woman : 

Yea, — and  thus  far  it  is  well ;  but  Reason's  hopes  are  higher,— 

Can  he  sate  his  soul  on  a  scantling  third  of  beauty  ? 

Yet  is  this  the  pleasing  trickery,  that  cheateth  half  the  world, 
Nature's  wise  deceit,  to  make  up  waste  in  life : 
And  few  be  they  that  rest  uncaught,  for  many  a  twig  is  limed ; 
Where  is  the  wise  among  a  million,  that  took  not  form  for  beauty  f 
But  watch  it  well ;  for  vanity  and  sin,  malice,  hate,  suspicion, 
Lowering  as  clouds  upon  the  countenance,  will  disenchant  its  charms. 
The  needful  complexity  of  beauty  claimeth  mind  and  soul, 
Though  many  coins  of  foul  alloy  pass  current  for  the  true : 
And  albeit  fairness  in  the  creature  shall  often  co-exist  with  excellence, 
Yet  hath  many  an  angel  shape  been  tenanted  by  fiends. 
A  man,  spiritually  keen,  shall  detect  in  surface  beauty 
Those  marring  specks  of  evil,  which  the  sensual  cannot  see  ; 
Therefore  is  he  proof  against  a  face,  unlovely  to  his  likings, 
And  common  minds  shall  scorn  the  taste,  that  shrunk  from  sin's  dis- 
tortion. 

There  is  a  beauty  of  the  reason  :  grandly  independent  of  externals, 

It  looketh  from  the  windows  of  the  house,  shining  in  the  man  triumphant. 

I  have  seen  the  broad  blank  face  of  some  misshapen  dwarf 

1  jt  on  a  sudden  as  with  glory,  the  brilliant  light  of  mind : 

Who  then  imagined  him  deformed  ?  intelligence  is  blazing  on  his  forehead, 

There  is  empire  in  his  eye,  and  sweetness  on  his  lip,  and  his  brown  cheek 

glittereth  with  beauty : 
And  I  have  known  some  Nireus  of  the  camp,  a  varnished  paragon  of 

chamberers,  (T) 

Fine,  elegant,  and  shapely,  moulded  as  the  master-piece  of  Phidias, — 
Such  an  one,  with  intellects  abased,  have  I  noted  crouching  to  the  dwarf» 
Whilst  his  lovers  scorn  the  fool  whose  beauty  hath  departed ! 


164  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  there  is  a  beauty  for  the  spirit ;  mind  in  its  perfect  flowering, 

Fragrant,  expanded  into  soul,  full  of  love  arid  blessed. 

Go  to  some  squalid  couch,  some  famishing  death-bed  of  the  poor ; 

He  is  shrunken,  cadaverous,  diseased ; — there  is  here  no  beauty  of  the  body, 

Never  hath  he  fed  on  knowledge,  nor  drank  at  the  streams  of  science, 

He  is  of  the  common  herd,  illiterate ; — there  is  here  no  beauty  of  the 

reason. 

But  lo !  his  filming  eye  is  bright  with  love  from  heaven, 
In  every  look  it  beameth  praise,  as  worshipping  with  seraphs ; 
What  honeycomb  is  hived  upon  his  lips,  eloquent  of  gratitude  and  prayer,— 
What  triumph  shrined  serene  upon  that  clammy  brow, 
What  glory  flickering  transparent  under  those  thin  cheeks, — 
What  beauty  in  his  face  ! — Is  it  not  the  face  of  an  angel  ? 

Now,  of  these  three,  infinitely  mingled  and  combined, 

Consisteth  human  beauty,  in  all  the  marvels  of  its  mightiness : 

And  forth  from  human  beauty  springeth  the  intensity  of  Love ; 

Feeling,  thought,  desire,  the  three  deep  fountains  of  affection. 

Son  of  Adam,  or  daughter  of  Eve,  art  thou  trapped  by  nature, 

And  is  thy  young  eye  dazzled  with  the  pleasant  form  of  beauty  ? 

This  is  but  a  lower  love  :  still  it  hath  its  honour ; 

What  God  hath  made  and  meant  to  charm,  let  not  man  depise. 

Nevertheless,  as  reason's  child,  look  thou  wisely  farther, 

For  age,  disease,  and  care,  and  sin,  shall  tarnish  all  the  surface ; 

Reach  a  loftier  love  ;  be  lured  by  the  comeliness  of  mind, — 

Gentle,  kind,  and  calm,  or  lustrous  in  the  livery  of  knowledge. 

And  more,  there  is  a  higher  grade  ;  force  the  mind  to  its  perfection, — 

Win  those  golden  trophies  of  consummate  love  : 

Add  unto  riches  of  the  reason,  and  a  beauty  moulded  to  thy  liking, 

The  precious  things  of  nobler  gaace  that  well  adorn  a  soul ; 

Thus,  be  thou  owner  of  a  treasure,  great  in  earth  and  heaven, 

Beauty,  wisdom,  goodness, — in  a  creature  like  its  God. 

So  then,  draw  we  to  an  end ;  with  feeble  step  and  faltering. 

I  follow  beauty  through  the  universe,  and  find  her  home  Ubiquity : 

In  all  that  God  hath  made,  in  all  that  man  hath  marred, 

Lingereth  beauty  or  its  wreck,  a  broken  mould  and  castings. 

And  now,  having  wandered  long  time,  freely  and  with  desultory  feet, 

To  gather  in  the  garden  of  the  world  a  few  fair  sample  flowers, 


OF  BEAUTY.  165 

With  patient  scrutinizing  care  let  us  cull  the  conclusion  of  their  essence, 
And  answer  to  the  riddle  of  Zorobabel,  Whence  the  might  of  beauty.  (* ) 

Ugliness  is  native  unto  nothing,  hut  possible  abstract  evil : 

In  every  thing  created,  at  its  worst,  lurk  the  dregs  of  loveliness. 

We  be  fallen  into  utter  depths,  yet  once  we  stood  sublime, 

For  man  was  made  in  perfect  praise,  his  Maker's  comely  image : 

And  so  his  new-born  ill  is  spiced  with  older  good, 

He  carrieth  with  him,  yea,  to  crime,  the  withered  limbs  of  beauty. 

Passions  may  be  crooked  generosities ;  the  robber  stealeth  for  his  children ; 

Murder  was  avenger  of  the  innocent,  or  wiped  out  shame  with  blood. 

Many  virtues,  weighted  by  excess,  sink  among  the  vices  ; 

Many  vices,  amicably  buoyed,  float  among  the  virtues.       • 

For,  albeit  sin  is  hate,  a  foul  and  bitter  turpitude, 

As  hurling  back  against  the  Giver  all  his  gifts  with  insult ; 

Still,  when  concrete  in  the  sinner  it  will  seem  to  partake  of  his  attractions, 

And  in  seductive  masquerade  shall  cloak  its  leprous  slan ; 

His  broken  lights  of  beauty  shall  illume  its  utter  black, 

And  those  refracted  rays  glitter  on  the  hunch  of  its  deformity. 

Verily  the  fancy  may  be  false,  yet  hath  it  met  me  ir  my  musings, 

(As  expounding  the  pleasantness  of  pleasure,  but  no  ways  extenuating 

license,) 

That  even  those  yearnings  after  beauty,  in  wayward  wanton  youth, 
When  guileless  of  ulterior  end,  it  craveth  but  to  look  upon  the  lovely, 
Seem  like  struggles  of  the  soul,  dimly  remembering  pre-existence, 
And  feeling  in  its  blindness  for  a  long-lost  god,  to  satisfy  its  longing ; 
As  if  the  sucking  babe,  tenderly  mindful  of  his  mother, 
Should  pull  a  dragon's  dugs,  and  drain  the  teats  of  poison. 
Our  primal  source  was  beauty,  and  we  pant  for  it  ever  and  again ; 
But  sin  hath  stopped  the  way  with  thorns :  we  turn  aside,  wander,  and 

are  lost. 

God,  the  undiluted  good,  is  root  and  stock  of  beauty, 

And  every  child  of  reason  drew  his  essence  from  that  stem. 

Therefore,  it  is  of  intuition,  an  innate  hankering  for  home, 

A  sweet  returning  to  the  well,  from  which  our  spirit  flowed, 

That  we,  unconscious  of  a  cause,  should  bask  these  darkened  souls 

In  some  poor  relics  of  the  light  that  blazed  in  primal  beauty, 


166  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And,  even  like  as  exiles  of  idolatry,  should  quaff  from  the  cisterns  of 

creation 
Stagnant  draughts,  for  those  fresh  springs  that  rise  in  the  Creator. 

Only,  being  burthened  with  the  body,  spiritual  appetite  is  warped, 
And  sensual  man,  with  taste  corrupted,  drinketh  of  pollutions : 
Impulse  is  left,  but  indiscriminate  ;  his  hunger  feasteth  upon  carrion  ; 
His  natural  love  of  beauty  doteth  over  beauty  in  decay. 
He  still  thirsteth  for  the  beautiful ;  but  his  delicate  ideal  hath  grown  gross, 
And  the  very  sense  of  thirst  hath  been  fevered  from  affection  into  passion. 
He  remembereth  the  blessedness  of  light,  but  it  is  with  an  old  man's 

memory, 

A  blind  old  man  from  infancy,  that  once  hath  seen  the  sun, 
Whom  long  experience  of  night  hath  darkened  in  his  cradle  recollections, 
Until  his  brightest  thought  of  noon  is  but  a  shade  of  black. 

This  then  is  thy  charm,  O. beauty,  all  pervading ; 

And  this  thy  wondrous  strength,  O  beauty,  conqueror  of  all : 

The  outline  of  our  shadowy  best,  the  pure  and  comely  creature, 

That  winneth  on  the  conscience  with  a  saddening  admiration  : 

And  some  untutored  thirst  for  God,  the  root  of  every  pleasure, 

Native  to  creatures,  yea  in  ruin,  and  dating  from  the  birthday  of  the 

soul. 

For  God  sealeth  up  the  sum,  confirmed  exemplar  of  proportions, 
Rich  in  love,  full  of  wisdom,  and  perfect  in  the  plentitude  of  Beauty.  (') 


OF   FAME. 

BLOW  the  trumpet,  spread  the  wing,  fling  thy  scroll  upon  the  sky, 

Rouse  the  slumbering  world,  O  Fame,  and  fill  the  sphere  with  echo : 

— Beneath  thy  blast  they  wake,  and   murmurs  come  hoarsely  on  the 

wind, 

And  flashing  eyes  and  bristling  hands  proclaim  they  hear  thy  message : 
Rolling  and  surging  as  a  sea,  that  upturned  flood  of  faces 
Hasteneth  with  its  million  tongues  to  spread  the  wondrous  tale ; 


OF  FAME.  157 

The  hum  of  added  voices  groweth  to  the  roaring  of  a  cataract, 
And  rapidly  from  wave  to  wave  is  tossed  that  exaggerated  story, 
Until  those  stunning  clamours,  gradually  diluted  in  the  distance, 
Stnk  ashamed,  and  shrink  afraid  of  noise,  and  die  away. 
Then  brooding  Silence,  forth  from  his  hollow  caverns, 
Cloaked  and  cowled,  and  gliding  along,  a  cold  and  stealthy  shadow, 
Once  more  is  mingled  with  the  multitude,  whispering  as  he  walketh, 
And  hushing  all  their  eager  ears  to  hear  some  newer  Fame. 

So  all  is  still  again  ;  but  nothing  of  the  past  hath  been  forgotten ; 
A  stirring  recollection  of  the  trumpet  ringeth  in  the  hearts  of  men ; 
And  each  one,  either  envious  or  admiring,  hath  wished  the  chance  were 

his 

To  fill,  as  thus,  the  startled  world  with  fame,  or  fear,  or  wonder. 
This  lit  thy  torch  of  sacrilege,  Ephesian  Eratostratus ;  (") 
This  dug  thy  living  grave,  Pythagoras,  the  traveller  from  Hades ; 
For  this,  dived  Empedocles  into  ^Etna's  fiery  whirlpool ; 
For  this   conquerors,   regicides,   and  rebels,  have  dared  their  perilous 

crimes. 

In  all  men,  from  the  monarch  to  the  menial,  lurketh  lust  of  fame ; 
The  savage  and  the  sage  alike  regard  their  labours  proudly : 
Yea,  in  death,  the  glazing  eye  is  illumined  by  the  hope  of  reputation, 
And  the  stricken  warrior  is  glad,  that  his  wounds  are  salved  with  glory. 

For  fame  is  a  sweet  self-homage,  an  offering  grateful  to  the  idol, 

A  spiritual  nectar  for  the  spiritual  thirst,  a  mental  food  for  mind, 

\  pregnant  evidence  to  all  of  an  after  immaterial  existence, 

A  proof  that  soul  is  scatheless,  when  its  dwelling  is  dissolved. 

And  the  manifold  pleasures  of  fame  are  sought  by  the  guilty  and  the 


Pleasures,  various  in  kind,  and  spiced  to  every  palate ; 
The  thoughtful  loveth  fame  as  an  earnest  of  better  immortality, 
The  industrious  and  deserving,  as  a  symbol  of  just  appreciation, 
The  selfish,  as  a  promise  of  advancement,  at  least  to  a  man's  own  kin, 
And  common  minds  as  a  flattering  fact  that  men  have  been  told  of  theif 
existence. 

There  is  a  blameless  love  of  fame,  springing  from  desire  of  justice, 
When  a  man  hath  featly  won  and  fairly  claimed  his  honours : 


168  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  then  fame  cometh  as  encouragement  to  the  inward  consciousness  of 

merit, 

Gladdening  by  the  kindliness  and  thanks,  wherewithal  his  labours  are  re- 
warded. 

But  there  is  a  sordid  imitation,  a  feverish  thirst  for  notoriety, 
Waiting  upon  vanity  and  sloth,  and  utterly  regardless  of  deserving : 
And  then  fame  cometh  as  a  curse ;  the  fire-damp  is  gathered  in  the  mine : 
The  soul  is  swelled  with  poisonous  air,  and  a  spark  of  temptation  shall 
explode  it. 

Idle  causes,  noised  awhile,  shall  yield  most  active  consequents, 

And  therefore  it  were  ill  upon  occasion,  to  scorn  the  voice  of  rumour. 

Ye  have  seen  the  chemist  in  his  art  mingle  invisible  gases ; 

And  lo,  the  product  is  a  substance,  a  heavy  dark  precipitate ; 

Even  so  fame,  hurtling  on  the  quiet  with  many  meeting  tongues, 

Can  out  of  nothing  bring  forth  fruits,  and   blossom  on   a  nourishment 

of  air. 

For  many  have  earned  honour,  and  thereby  rank  and  riches, 
From  false  and  fleeting  tales,  some  casual  mere  mistake  ; 
And  many  have  been  wrecked  upon  disgrace,  and  have  struggled  with 

poverty  and  scorn, 

From  envious  hints  and  ill  reports,  the  slanders  cast  on  innocence. 
Whom  may  not  scandal  hit  ?  those  shafts  are  shot  at  a  venture  : 
Who  standeth  not  in  danger  of  suspicion  ?    that  net   hath  caught  the 

noblest. 

Cajsar's  wife  was  spotless,  but  a  martyr  to  false  fame  ;  (") 
And  Rumour,  in  temporary  things,  is  gigantic  as  a  ruin  or  a  remedy : 
Many  poor  and  many  rich  have  testified  its  popular  omnipotence, 
And   many  a  panic-stricken  army  hath  perished  with  the  host  of  the 

Assyrians. 

Nevertheless,  if  opportunity  be  nought,  let  a  man  bide  his  time ; 

So  the  matter  be  not  merchandise  nor  conquest,  fear  thou  less  for  cha- 
racter. 

If  a  liar  accuseth  thee  of  evil,  be  not  swift  to  answer ; 

Yea,  rather  give  him  license  for  a  wliile  ;  it  shall  help  thine  honour  after- 
ward : 

Never  yet  was  calumny  engendered,  but  good  men  speedily  discerned  it, 

And  innocence  hath  burst  from  its  injustice,  as  the  green  world  rolling  out 
of  Chaos. 


OF  FAME.  169 

What,  though  still  the  wicked  scoff,  this  also  turneth  to  his  praise ; 

Did  ye  never  hear  that  censure  of  the  bad  is  buttress  to  a  good  man's 

glory  ? 

What,  if  the  ignorant  still  hold  out,  obstinate  in  unkind  judgment,— 
Ignorance  and  calumny  are  paired ;  we  affirm  by  two  negations  ; 
Let  them  stand  round  about,  pushing  at  the  column  in  a  circle, 
For  all  their  toil  and  wasted  strength,  the  foolish  dp  but  prop  it. 
And  note  thou  this ;  in  the  secret  of  their  hearts,  they  feel  the  taunt  ia 

false, 
And  cannot  help  but  reverence  the  courage  that  walketh  amid  calumnies 

unanswering : 

He  standeth  as  a  gallant  chief,  unheeding  shot  or  shell ; 
He  trusted  in  God  his  Judge ;  neither  arrows  nor  the  pestilence  shall 

harm  him. 

» 

A  liigh  heart  is  a  sacrifice  to  heaven  ;  should  it  stoop  among  the  creepers 
in  the  dust, 

To  tell  them  that  what  God  approved  is  worthy  of  their  praise ! 

Never  shall  it  heed  the  thought ;  but  flaming  on  in  triumph  to  the  skies, 

And  quite  forgetting  fame,  shall  find  it  added  as  a  trophy. 

A  great  mind  is  an  altar  on  a  hill ;  should  the  priest  descend  from  his  alti- 
tude 

To  canvass  offerings  and  worship  from  dwellers  on  the  plain  ? 

Rather  with  majestic  perseverance,  will  he  minister  in  solitary  grandeur, 

Confident  the  time  will  come  when  pilgrims  shall  be  flocking  to  the  shrine. 

For  fame  is  the  birthright  of  genius  ;  and  he  recketh  not  how  long  it  bs 
delayed : 

The  heir  need  not  hasten  to  his  heritage,  when  he  knoweth  that  his  tenure 
is  eternal. 

The  careless  poet  of  Avon,  was  he  troubled  for  his  fame  ? 

Or  the  deep-mouthed  chronicler  of  Paradise,  heeded  he  the  suffrage  of  his 
equals  ? 

Maeonides  took  no  thought,  commiting  all  his  honours  to  the  future, 

And  Flaccus,  standing  on  his  watch-tower,  spied  the  praise  of  ages. 

Smoking  flax  will  breed  a  flame,  and  the  flame  may  illuminate  a  wor,d  • 
Where  is  he  who  scorned  that  smoke  as  foul  and  murky  vapour  ? 
The  village  stream  swelled  to  a  river,  and  the  river  was  a  kingdom's 
wealth ; 

8 


Ifl)  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Where  is  he  who  boasted  he  could  step  across  that  stream  ? 

Such  are  the  beginnings  of  the  famous :  little  in  the  judgment  of  thefe 

peers, 

The  juster  verdict  of  posterity  shall  fix  them  in  the  orbits  of  the  Great 
Therefore  dull  Zoilus,  clamouring  ascendant  of  the  hour,  .   ' 

Will  soon  be  fain  to  hide  his  hate,  and  bury  up  his  bitterness  for  shame : 
Therefore  mocking  Monus,  offended  at  the  steps  of  Beauty,  (1S) 
Shall  win  the  prize  of  his  presumption,  and  be  hooted  from  his  throne 

among  the  stars. 

For,  as  the  shadow  of  a  mountain  lengtheneth  before  the  setting  sun, 
Until  that  screening  Alp  have  darkened  all  the  canton,— 
So  Fame  groweth  to  its  great  ones  ;  their  images  loom  larger  in  departing  : 
But  the  shadow  of  mind  is  light,  and  earth  is  filled  with  its  glory. 

And  thou.  student  of  the  truth,  commended  to  the  praise  of  God, 

Wouldst  thou  find  applause  with  men  ? — seek  it  not,  nor  shun  it. 

Ancient  fame  is  roofed  in  cedar,  and  her  walls  are  marble : 

Modern  fame  lodgeth  in  a  hut,  a  slight  and  temporary  dwelling ; 

Lay  not  up  the  treasures  of  thy  soul  within  so  damp  a  chamber, 

For  the  moth  of  detraction  shall  fret  thy  robe,  and  drop  its  eggs  upon  thy 

motive ; 

Or  the  rust  of  disheartening  reserve  shall  spoil  the  lustre  of  thy  gold, 
Until  its  burnished  beauty  shall  be  dim  as  tarnished  brass ; 
Or  thieves,  breaking  through-  to  steal,  shall  claim  thy  jewelled  thoughts, 
And  turn  to  charge  the  theft  on  thee,  a  pilferer  from  them  ! 

There  is  a  magnanimity  in  recklessness  of  fame,  so  fame  be  well  deserv- 
ing* 

That  rusheth  on  in  fearless  might,  the  conscious  sense  of  merit ; 
And  there  is  a  littleness  in  jealousy  of  fame,  looking  as  aware  of  weak- 
ness, 

That  creepeth  cautiously  along,  afraid  that  its  title  will  be  challenged. 
The  wild  boar,  full  of  beech-mast,  flingeth  him  down  among  the  brambles 
Secure  in  bristly  strength,  without  a  watch  he  sleepeth  : 
But  the  hare,  afraid  to  feed,  croucheth  in  its  own  soft  form ; 
Waketully  with  timid  eyes,  and  quivering  ears,  he  listeneth. 
Even  so,  a  giant's  might  is  bound  up  in  the  soul  of  Genius, 
His  necK  is  strong  with  confidence,  and  he  goeth  tusked  with  power 
Sturdily -he  roameth  in  the  forest,  or  sunneth  him  in  fen  and  field, 


OF  FAME.  171 

And  scareth  from  his  marshy  lair  a  host  of  fearful  foes. 

But  there  is  a  mimic  talent,  whose  safety  lieth  in  its  quickness, 

A  timorous  thing  of  doubting  guile,  that  scarce  can  face  a  friend  : 

This  one  is  captious  of  reproof,  provident  to  snatch  occasion, 

Greedy  of  applause,  and  vexed  to  lose  one  tittle  of  the  glory. 

He  is  a  poor  warder  of  his  fame,  who  is  ever  on  the  watch  to  keep  k  spot 

less ; 

Such  care  argueth  debility,  a  garrison  relying  on  its  sentinel. 
Passive  strength  shall  scorn  excuses,  patiently  waiting  a  reaction,  . 
He  wotteth  well  that  truth  is  great,  and  must  prevail  at  last : 
But  fretful  weakness  hasteth  to  explain,  anxiously  dreading  prejudice, 
And  ignorant  that  perishable  falsehood  dieth  as  a  branch  cut  off. 

Purity  of  motive  and  nobility  of  mind  shall  rarely  condescend 

To  prove  its  rights,  and  prate  of  wrongs,  or  evidence  its  worth  to  others ; 

And  it  shall  be  small  care  to  the  high  and  happy  conscience 

What  jealous  friends,  or  envious  foes,  or  common  fools  may  judge. 

Should  the  lion  turn  and  rend  every  snarling  jackal,  - 

Or  an  eagle  be  stopped  in  his  career  to  punish  the  petulance  of  sparrow*  ? 

Should  the  palm-tree  bend  his  crown  to  chide  the  brier  at  his  feet, 

Nor  kindly  help  its  climbing,  if  it  hope,  and  be  ambitious  ? 

Should  the  nightingale  account  it  worth  her  pains  to  vindicate  her  music, 

Before  some  sorry  finches,  that  affect  to  judge  of  song  ? 

No :  many  an  injustice,  many  a  sneer,  and  slur, 

Is  passed  aside  with  noble  scorn  by  lovers  of  true  fame : 

For  well  they  wot  that  glory  shall  be  tinctured  good  or  evil, 

By  the  character  of  those  who  give  it,  as  wine  is  flavoured  by  the  wine-skin; 

So  that  worthy  fame  floweth  only  from  a  worthy  fountain, 

But  from  an  ill-conditioned  troop,  the  best  report  is  worthless. 

And  if  the  sensibility  of  genius  count  his  injuries  in  secret, 

Wisely  will  he  hide  the  pains  a  hardened  herd  would  mock ; 

For  the  great  mind  well  may  be  sad  to  note  such  littleness  in  brethren, 

The  while  he  is  comforted  and  happy  in  the  firmest  assurance  of  desert. 

Cease  awhile,  gentle  scholar ; — seek  other  thoughts  and  themes ; 
Or  dazzling  fame  with  wildfire  light  will  lure  us  on  for  ever. 
For  look,  all  subjects  of  the  mind  may  range  beneath  its  banner, 
And  time  would  fail  and  patience  droop,  to  count  that  numerous  host. 
The  mine  is  deep,  and  branching  wide, — and  who  can  work  it  out  1 


f72  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Years  of  thought  would  leave  untold  the  boundless  topic,  Fame. 

Every  matter  in  the  universe  is  linked  in  suchwise  unto  others, 

That  a  deep  full  treatise  upon  one  thing  might  reach  to  the  history  of  all 

things : 

And  before  some  single  thesis  had  been  followed  out  in  all  its  branches, 
The  wandering  thinker  would  be  lost  in  the  pathless  forest  of  existence. 
What  were  the  matter  or  the  spirit,  that  hath  no  part  in  Fame  ? 
Where  were  the  fact  irrelevant,  or  the  fancy  out  of  place  ? 
For  the  handling  of  that  mighty  theme  should  stretch  from  past  to  future, 
Catching  up  the  present  on  its  way,  as  a  traveller  burdened  with  time. 
All  manner  of  men,  their  deeds,  hopes,  fortunes,  and  ambitions, 
All  manner  of  events  and  things,  climate,  circumstance,  and  custom, 
Wealth  and  war,  fear  and  hope,  contentment,  jealousy,  devotion, 
Skill  and  learning,  truth,  falsehood,  knowledge  of  things  gone  and  things 

to  come, 

Pride  and  praise,  honour  and  dishonour,  warnings,  ensamples,  emulations 
The  excellent  in  virtues,  and  the  reprobate  hi  vice,  with  the  cloud  of  in 

different  spectators, — 

Wave  on  wave  with  flooding  force  throng  the  shoals  of  thought, 
Filling  that  immeasurable  theme,  the  height  and  depth  of  Fame. 
With  soul  unsatisfied  and  mind  dismayed,  my  feet  have  touched  the 

threshold, 

Fain  to  pour  these  flowers  and  fruits  an  offering  on  that  altar : 
Lo,  how  vast  the  temple, — there  are  clouds  within  the  dome  ! 
Yet  might  the  huge  expanse  be  filled  with  volumes  writ  on  Fame. 


OF  FLATTERY. 

Music  is  commended  of  the  deaf ; — but  is  that  praise  despised  ? 

I  trow  not :  with  flattered  soul,  the  musician  heard  him  gladly. 

Beauty  is  commended  of  the  blind  ; — but  is  that  compliment  misliking  ? 

I  trow  not ;  though  false  and  insincere^  woman  listened  greedily. 

Vacant  Folly  talketh  high  of  Learning's  deepest  reason  ; 

Is  she  hated  for  her  hollowness  ? — learning  held  her  wiser  for  the  nonce. 

The  worldly  and  the  sensual,  to  gain  some  end,  did  homage  to  religion : 


OF  FLATTERY.  173 

•£• 

And  the  good  man  gave  thanks  as  for  a  convert,  where  others  saw  the 
hypocrite. 

Yet  none  of  these  were  cheated  at  the  heart,  nor  steadily  believed  those 

flatteries ; 

They  feared  the  core  was  rotten,  while  they  hoped  the  skin  was  sound : 
But  the  fruits  have  so  sweet  fragrance,  and  are  verily  so  pleasant  to  the  eyes, 
It  were  an  ungracious  disenchantment  to  find  them  apples  of  Sodom. 
So  they  laboured  to  think  all  honest,  winking  hard  with  both  their  eyes  ; 
And  hushed  up  every  whisper  that  could  prove  that  praise  absurd ; 
They  willingly  regard  not  the  infirmities  that  make  such  worship  vain, 
And  palliate  to  their  own  fond  hearts  the  faults  they  will  not  see. 
For  the  idol  rejoiceth  in  his  incense,  and  loveth  not  to  shame  his  suppliants; 
Should  he  seek  to  find  them  false,  his  honours  die  with  theirs : 
An  offering  is  welcome  for  its  own  sake,  set  aside  the  giver, 
And  praise  is  precious  to  a  man,  though  uttered  by  the  parrot  or  the  mock- 
ing-bird. •    iv . 

The  world  is  full  of  Tools  ;  and  sycophancy  liveth  on  the  foolish  : 

So  he  groweth  great  and  rich,  that  fawning  supple  parasite. 

Sometimes  he  boweth  like  a  reed,  cringing  to  the  pompousness  of  pride, 

Sometimes  he  strutteth  as  a  gallant,  pampering  the  fickleness  of  vanity : 

I  have  known  him  listen  with  the  humble,  enacting,  silent  marveller, 

To  hear  some  purse-proud  dunce  expound  his  poverty  of  mind ; 

I  have  heard  him  wrangle  with  the  obstinate,  vowing  that  he  will  not  be 

convinced, 

When  some  weak  youth  hath  wisely  feared  the  chance  of  ill  success : 
Now,  he  will  barely  be  a  winner, — to  magnify  thy  triumphs  afterward ; 
Now,  he  will  hardly  be  a  loser, — but  cannot  cease  to  wonder  at  thy  skill : 
He  laudeth  his  own  worth,  that  the  leader  may  have  glory  in  his  follower ; 
He  meekly  confesseth  his  unworthiness,  that  the  leader  may  have  glory  in 

himself. 

Many  wiles  hath  he,  and  many  modes  of  catching, 
But  every  trap  is  selfishness,  and  every  bait  is  praise. 

Come,  I  would  forewarn  thee  and  forearm  thee ;  for  keen  are  the  weapons 

of  his  warfare ; 

And,  while  my  soul  hath  scorned  him,  I  have  watched  his  skill  from  far. 
His  thoughts  are  full  of  guile,  deceitfully  combining  contrarieties, 


174  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  when  he  doeth  battle  in  a  man,  he  is  leagued  with  traitorous  Self-love ; 

Strange  things  have  I  noted,  and  opposite  to  common  fancy ; 

We  leave  the  open  surface,  and  would  plumb  the  secret  depths. 

For  he  will  magnify  a  lover  even  to  disparaging  his  mistress  ; 

So  much  wisdom,  goodness,  grace, — and  all  tc  be  enslaved  ? 

Till  the  Narcissus,  self-enamoured,  whelmed  in  floods  of  flattery, 

Is  cheated  from  the  constancy  and  fervency  of  love  by  friendship's  subtle 

praise. 

Moreover,  he  will  glorify  a  parent,  even  to  the  censure  of  his  child,— 
O  degenerate  scion,  of  a  stock  so  excellent  and  noble ! 
Scant  will  be  in  well-earned  praise  of  a  son  before  his  father ; 
And  rarely  commendeth  to  a  mother  her  daughter's  budding  beauty  : 
Yet  shall  he  extol  the  daughter  to  her  father,  and  be  warm  about  the  son 

before  his  mother ; 

Knowing  that  self-love  entereth  not,  to  resist  applause  with  jealousies. 
Wisely  is  he  sparing  of  hyperbole  where  vehemence  of  praise  would 

humble,  • 

For  many  a  father  liketh  ill  to  be  counted  second  to  his  son  : 
And  shrewdly  the  flatterer  hath  reckoned  on  a  self  still  lurking  in  the 

mother, 

When  his  tongue  was  slow  to  speak  of  graces  in  the  daughter. 
But  if  he  descend  a  generation,  to  the  grandsire  his  talk  is  of  the  grandson, 
Because  in  such  high  praise  he  hideth  the  honours  of  the  son ; 
And  the  daughter  of  a  daughter  may  well  exceed,  in  beauty,  love,  and 

learning, 

For  unconsciously  old  age  perceived — she  cannot  be  my  rival. 
These  are  of  the  deep  things  of  flattery :  and  many  a  shallow  sycophant 
Hath  marvelled  ill  that  praise  of  children  seldom  won  their  parents. 
This  therefore  note,  unto  detection  ;  flattery  can  sneer  as  well  as  smile ; 
And  a  master  in  the  craft  wotteth  well  that  his  oblique  thrust  is  surest. 

Flattery  sticketh  like  a  burr,  holding  to  the  soil  with  anchors, 
A  vital,  natural,  subtle  seed,  every  where  hardy  and  indigenous. 
Go  to  the  storehouse  of  thy  memory,  and  take  what  is  readiest  to  thy  hand,— 
The  noble  deed,  the  clever  phrase,  for  which  thy  pride  was  flattered : 
Oh,  it  hath  been  dwelt  upon  in  solitude,  and  comforted  thy  heart  in  crowds, 
It  hath  made  thee  walk  as  in  a  dream,  and  lifted  the  head  above  thy  fellows; 
It  hath  compensated  months  of  gloom,  that  minute  of  sweet  sunshine, 
Prying  up  the  pools  of  apathy,  and  kindling  the  fire  of  ambition : 


3|  OF  FLATTERY.  175 

Yea,  the  flavour  of  that  spice,  mingled  in  the  cup  of  life, 
Shall  linger  even  to  the  dregs,  and  still  be  tasted  with  a  welcome ; 
Tne  dame  shall  tell  her  grandchild  of  her  coy  and  courted  youth, 
And  the  gray  beard  prateth  of  a  stranger,  that  praised  liis  iisk  at  school. 

Ofttimes  to  the  sluggard  and  the  dull,  flattery  nath  done  good  service, 

Quickening  the  mind  to  emulation,  and  encouraging  the  heart  that  failed. 

Even  so,  a  stimulating  poison,  wisely  tendered  by  the  leech, 

Shall  speed  the  pulse,  and  rally  life,  and  cheat  astonished  death. 

For,  as  a  timid  swimmer  ventureth  afloat  with  bladders, 

Until  self-confidence  and  growth  of  skill  have  made  him  spurn  their  aid, 

Thus  commendation  may  be  prudent,  where  a  child  hath  ill  deserved  it ; 

But  praise  unmerited  is  flattery,  and  the  cure  will  bring  its  cares : 

For  thy  son  may  find  thee  out,  and  thou  shalt  rue  the  remedy : 

Yea  rather,  where  thou  canst  not  praise,  be  honest  in  rebuke. 

I  have  seen  the  objects  of  a  flatterer  mirrored  clearly  on  the  surface, 

Where  self-love  scattereth  praise  to  gather  praise  again. 

This  is  a  commodity  of  merchandise,  words  put  out  at  interest ; 

A  scheme  for  canvassing  opinions,  and  tinging  them  all  with  partiality. 

He  is  but  a  harmless  fool ;  humour  him  with  pitiful  good-nature : 

If  a  poetaster  quote  thy  song,  be  thou  tender  to  his  poem : 

Did  the  painter  praise  thy  sketch  ?  be  kind,  commend  his  picture, 

He  looketh  for  a  like  return ;  then  thank  him  with  thy  praise. 

In  these  small  things,  with  these  small  minds,  count  thou  the  sycophant 

a  courtier, 
And  pay  back,  as  blindly  as  ye  may,  the  too  transparent  honour. 

Also,  where  the  flattery  is  delicate,  coming  unobtrusive  and  in  season, 

Though  thou  be  suspicious  of  its  truth,  be  generous  at  least  to  its  gentility. 

The  skilful  thief  of  Lacedamon  had  praise  before  his  judges, 

As  many  caitiffs  win  applause  for  genius  in  their  calling. 

Moreover,  his  meaning  may  be  kind, — and  thou  art  a  debtor  to  his  tongue , 

Histen  well,  to  pay  the  debt,  with  charity  and  shrewdness : 

He  must  not  think  thee  caught,  nor  feel  himself  discovered, 

Nor  find  thine  answering  compliment  as  hollow  as  his  own. 

Though  he  be  a  smiling  enemy,  let  him  heed  thee  as  the  fearless  and  the 

friendly ; 
A.  searching  look,  a  poignant  word,  may  prove  thou  art  aware : 


176  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Still,  with  compassion  to  the  frail,  though  keen  to  see  his  soul, 
Let  him  not  fear  for  thy  discretion :  see  thou  keep  his  secret,  and  thine 
own. 

However,  where  the  flattery  is  gross,  a  falsehood  clear  and  fulsome, 

Crush  the  venomous  toad,  and  spare  not  for  a  jewel  in  his  head. 

Tell  the  presumptuous  in  flattery,  that  or  ever  he  bespatter  thee  with  praise, 

It  might  be  well  to  stop  and  ask  how  little  it  were  worth : 

Thou  hast  not  solicited  his  suffrage, — let  him  not  force  thee  to  refuse  it  j 

Look  to  it,  man,  thy  fence  is  foiled, — and  thus  we  spoil  the  plot. 

Self-knowledge  goeth  armed,  girt  with  many  waapons, 

But  carrieth  whip  for  flattery,  to  lash  it  like  a  slave : 

But  the  dunce  in  that  great  science  goeth  as  a  greedy  tunny, 

To  gorge  both  bait  and  hook,  unheeding  all  but  appetite : 

He  smelleth  praise  and  swalloweth, — yea,  though  it  be  palpable  and  plain; 

Say  unto  him,,  Folly  thou  art  Wisdom, — he  will  bless  thee  for  thy  lie. 

Flatterer,  thou  shalt  me  thy  trade,  though  it  hath  many  present  gains ; 
Those  varnished  wares  may  sell  apace,  yet  shall  they  spoil  thy  credit. 
Thine  is  the  intoxicating  cup,  which  whoso  drinketh  it  shall  nauseate ; 
Thine  is  trickery  and  cheating ;  but  deception  never  pleased  for  long. 
And  though,  while  fresh,  thy  fragrance  seemed  even  as  the  dews  of  charity, 
Yet  afterward  it  fouled  thy  censer,  as  with  savour  of  stale  smoke. 
For  the  great  mind  detected  thee  at  once,  answering  thine  emptiness  with 

P^y, 

He  saw  thy  self-interested  zeal,  and  was  not  cozened  by  vain-glory : 

And  the  little  mind  is  bloated  with  the  praise,  scorning  him  who  gave  it, 

A  fool  shall  turn  to  be  thy  tyrant,  if  thou  hast  dubbed  him  great : 

And  the  medium  mind  of  common  men,  loving  first  thy  music, 

After,  when  the  harmonies  are  done,  shall  feel   small  comfort  in  their 

echoes ; 

For  either  he  shall  know  thee  false,  conscious  of  contrary  deservings, 
And,  hating  thee  for  falsehood,  soon  will  scorn  himself  for  truth  ;  ( 

Or,  if  in  aught  to  toilsome  merit  honest  praise  be  due,  '* 

Though  for  a   season,  belike,  his  weakness  hath  been  raptured   at  thjr 

witching, 

Shall  he  not  speedily  perceive,  to  the  vexing  of  his  disappointed  spirit, 
That  thine  exaggerative  tongue  had  robbed  him  of  fair  fame  ? 
Thou  hast  paid  in  forgo-'s  coins,  and  he  hath  earned  true  money : 


OF  FLATTERY.  177 

For  the  substance  of  just  praise  thou  hast  put  him  off  with  shadows  of  the 

sycophant. 

Thou  art  all  tilings  to  all  men,  for  ends  false  and  selfish, 
Therefore  shall  be  nothing  unto  any  one,  when  those  thine  ends  are  seen 


Turn  aside,  young  scholar,  turn  from  the  song  of  Flattery ! 

She  hath  the  Siren's  musical  voice,  to  ravish  and  betray. 

Her  tongue  droppeth  honey,  but  it  is  the  honey  of  Anticyra ; 

Her  face  is  a  mask  of  facination,  but  there  hideth  deformity  behind  ; 

Her  coming  is  the  presence  of  a  queen,  heralded  by  courtesy  and  beauty, 

But,  going  away,  her  train  is  held  by  the  hideous  dwarf,  Disgust. 

Know  thyself,  thy  evil  as  thy  good,  and  flattery  shall  not  hann  thee : 

Yea,  her  speech  shall  be  a  warning,  a  humbling,  and  a  guide. 

For  wherein  thou  lackest  most,  there  chiefly  will  the  sycophant  commeno 

thee, 

And  then  most  warmly  will  congratulate,  when  a  man  hath  least  deserved 
Behold,  she  is  doubly  a  traitor ;  and  will  underrate  her  victim's  best, 
That,  to  the  comforting  of  conscience,  she  may  plead  his  worse  for  better. 

Therefore  is  she  dangerous, — as  every  lie  is  dangerous : 

Believe  her  tales,  and  perish ;  if  thou  act  upon  such  counsel. 

Her  aims  are  thine,  not  thee ;  thy  wealth,  and  not  thy  welfare ; 

Thy  suffrage,  not  thy  safety ;  thine  aid,  and  not  thine  honour. 

Moreover,  with  those  aims  insured,  ceaseth  all  her  glozing ; 

She  hath  used  thee  as  a  handle, — but  her  hand  was  wise  to  turn  it: 

Thus  will  she  glorify  her  skill,  that  it  deftly  caught  thy  kindness, 

Thus  will  she  scorn  thy  kindness,  so  pliable  and  easy  to  her  skill. 

And  then,  the  flatterer  will  turn  to  be  thy  foe,  the  bitterest  and  holiest, 

Because  he  oweth  thee  much  hate  to  pay  off  many  humblings. 

Thinkest  thou  now  that  he  is  high,  he  loveth  the  remembrance  of  his  low- 
liness, 

The  servile  manner,  the  dependent  smile,  the  conscience  self-abased  ? 

No,  this  hour  is  his  own,  and  the  flatterer  will  be  found  a  busy  mocker ; 

He  that  hath  salved  thee  with  his  tongue  shall  now  gnash  upon  thee  with 
his  teeth, 

Yea,  he  will  be  leader  in  the  laugh, — silly  one,  to  listen  to  thy  loss, 

VVe  scarce  had  hoped  to  lime  and  take  another  of  the  fools  of  flattery. 

8* 


178  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

At  the  last ;  have  charity,  young  scholar, — yea,  to  the  sycophant  convicted; 

Be  not  a  Brutus  to  thyself,  nor  stern  in  thine  own  cause. 

Pardon  exaggerated  praise ;  for  there  is  a  natural  impulse 

Spurring  on  the  nobler  mind,  to  colour  facts  by  feelings : 

Take  an  indulgent  view  of  each  man's  interest  in  self, 

Be  large  and  liberal  in  excuses  ;  is  not  that  infirmity  thine  own  ? 

Search  thy  soml  and  be  humble ;  and  mercy  abideth  with  humility  ; 

So  that,  yea,  the  insincere,  may  find  the  pitiful,  and  love  thee. 

Mildly  put  aside,  without  rudeness  of  repulse,  the  pampering  hand  of  flat- 
tery, 

For  courtesy  and  kindness  have  gone  beneath  Us  guise,  and  ill  shouldst 
thou  rebuke  them. 

Thou  art  incapable  of  theft :  but  flowers  in  the  garden  of  a  friend 

Are  thine  to  pluck  with  confidence,  and  it  were  unfriendliness  to  hesitate-; 

Thou  abhorrest  flattery :  but  a  generous  excess  in  praise 

Is  thine  to  yield  with  honest,  heart,  and  false  were  the  charity  to  doubt  it ; 

The  difference  lieth  in  thine  aim ;  kindliness  and  good  are  of  charity,. 

But  selfish,  harmful,  vile,  and  bad,  is  flattery's  evil  end. 


OF   NEGLECT. 

GENEROUS  and  righteous  is  thy  grief,  slighted  child  of  sensibility ; 
"For  kindliness  enkindleth  love,  but  the  waters  of  indifference  quench  it 
Thy  soul  is  athrist  for  sympathy,  and  hnngereth  to  find  affection. 
The  tender  scions  of  thy  heart  yearn  for  the  sunshine  of  good  feeling  j 
And  it  is  an  evil  thing  and  bitter,  when  the  cheerful  face  of  Charity, 
Going  forth  gayly  in  the  morning  to  woo  the  world  with  smiles, 
Is  met  by  those  wayfaring  men  with  coldness,  suspicion,  and  repulse, 
And  turneth  into  hard  dead  stone  at  the  Gorgon  visage  of  Neglect. 

0  brother,  warm  and  young,  covetous  of  others'  favour, 

1  see  thee  checked  and  chilled,  sorrowing  for  censure  or  forgetfulness. 
Let  coarse  and  common  minds  despise — that  wounding  of  thy  vanity, 
Alas,  I  note  a  sorer  cause,  the  blighting  of  thy  love ; 

Let  the  callous  sensual  deride  thee/^-disappointed  of  thy  praise, 


'OF  NEGLECT,  ItJ 

Alas,  fhou  nast  a  j  aster  grief,  defrauded  of  their  kindness : 

It  is  a  theme  for  tears  to  feel  the  soft  heart  hardening, 

The  frozen  breath  of  apathy  sealing  up  the  fountain  of  affection ; 

It  is  a  pang  keen  only  to  the  best,  to  be  injured  well-deserving, 

And  slumbering  Neglect  is  injury,-^— could  ye  not  watch  one  hour  T 

When  God  himself  complained,  it  was  that  none  regarded, 

And  indifference  bowed  to  thfe  refouke,  Thou  gavest  Me  no  kiss  when  I 


Moreover,  praise  is  good ;  honour  is  a  treasure  to  be  hoarded ; 
A  good  man's  praise  fcreshadoweth  God's,  and  in  His  smile  is  heaven : 
But  men  walk  on  in  hardihood,  steeling  their  sinfulness  to  censure, 
And  where  rebuke  is  ridiculed,  the  love  of  praise  were  an  infirmity ; 
The  judge  them  heedest  not  in  fear,  cannot  have  deep  homage  of  thy  hope, 
And  who  then  is  the  wise  of  this  world,  that  will  own  he  trembleth  at  Ms 

fellows  ? 

Calm,  careless,  and  insensible,  he  mocketh  blame  or  calumny, 
Neither  should  his  dignity  be  humbled  to  some  pittance  of  their  praise : 
The  rather,  let  false  pride  affect  to  trample  on  the  treasure 
Which  evermore  in  secret  strength  unconquered  Nature  prizeth ; 
Rather,  shall  he  stifle  now  the  rising  bliss  of  triumph, 
Lest  after,  in  the  world's  Neglect,  he  must  acknowledge  bitterness. 

For  lo,  that  world  is  wide,  a  huge  and  crowded  continent, 

Its  brazen  sun  is  mammon,  and  its  iron  soil  is  care, 

A  world  full  of  men,  where  each  man  clingeth  to  his  idol ; 

A  world  full  of  men,  where  each  man  cfeerisheth  his  sorrow  ; 

A  world  full  of  men,  multitude  shoaling  upon  multitude ; 

A  surging  sea,  where  every  wave  is  burdened  with  an  argosy  of  self;     •'% 

A  boundless  beach,  where  -every  stone  is  a  separate  microscopic  world  J 

A  forest  of  innumerable  trees,  where  every  root  is  independent. 

What  then  is  the  marvel  or  the  shame,  if  units  be  lost  among  the  million  1 

Canst  thou  reasonably  murmur,  if  a  leaf  drop  off  unnoticed  ? 

Wondrous  in  architecture,  intricate  and  beautiful,  delicately  tinged  and 

scented, 
Exquisite  of  feeiing  and  mysterious  in  life,  none  cared  for  its  growth,  Of 

its  decay : 
None  ?  yea, — no  one  of  its  fellows, — nor  cedar,  palm,  nor  bramble  -*• 


180  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

None  ?  its  twinborn  brother  scarcely  missed  it  from  the  spray '. 
None  ? — if  none  indeed,  then  man's  neglect  were  bitterness  j 
And  life  a  land  without  a  sun,  a  globe  without  a  God  ! 
Yea,  flowers  in  the  desert,  there  be  that  love  your  beauty ; 
Yea,  jewels  in  the  sea,  there  be  that  prize  your  brightness  ; 
Children  of  unmerited  oblivion,  there  be  that  watch  and  woo  you, 
And  many  tend  your  sweets,  with  gentle  ministering  care  : 
Thronging  spirits  of  the  happy,  and  the  ever  present  Good  One, 
Yearning  seek  those  precious  things  man  hath  not  heart  to  love ; 
Gems  of  the  humblest  or  the  highest,  pure  and  patient  in  their  kind, 
The  souls  unhardened  by  ill-usage,  and  unconrupt  by  luxury. 

And  ye,  poor  desolates  unsunned,  toilers  m  the  dark  damp  mine, 
Wearied  daughters  of  oppression,  crushed  beneath  the  car  of  avarice, 
There  be  that  count  your  tears, — he  hath  numbered  the  hairs  of  thj 

head, — 

There  be  that  can  forgive  your  ill  with  kind  considerate  pity ; 
Count  ye  this  for  comfort,  Justice  hath  her  balances, 
And  yet  another  world  can  compensate  for  all : 
The  daily  martyrdom  of  patience  shall  not  be  wanting  of  reward  j 
Duty  is  a  prickly  shrub,  but  its  flower  will  be  happiness  and  glory. 

Ye  too,  the  friendless,  yet  dependent,  that  find  nor  home  nor  lover, 

Sad  imprisoned  hearts,  captive  to  the  net  of  circumstance, — 

And  ye,  too  harshly  judged,  noble  unappreciated  intellects, 

Who,  capable  of  highest,  lowlier  fix.  your  just  ambition  in  content, 

And  chiefest,  ye  famished  infants  of  the  poor,  toiling  for  your  parents'  bread, 

Tired,  and  sore,  and  uncomforted  the  while,  for  want  of  love  and  learning 

Who  struggle  with  the  pitiless  machine  in  dull  continuous  conflict, 

Tasked  by  iron  men,  who  care  for  nothing  but  your  labour, — 

Be  ye  long-suffering  and  courageous  ;  abide  the  will  of  Heaven  • 

God  is  on  your  side ;  all  things  are  tenderly  remembered  : 

His  servants  here  shall  help  you  ;  and  where  those  fail  you  through  Neg 

lect,     • 

His  kingdom  still  hath  time  and  space  for  ample  discriminative  Justice: 
Yea,  though  utterly  on  this  bad  earth  ye  lose  both  right  and  mercy, 
The  tears  that  we  forgat  to  note,  our  God  shall  wipe  away. 

Nevertheless,  kind  spirit,  susceptible  and  guileless, 


OF  NEGLECT.  181 

Meek  uncherished  dove,  in  a  carrion  flock  of  fowls, 

Sensitive  mimosa,  shrinking  from  the  winds  that  help  to  root  the  fir, 

Fragile  nautilus,  shipwrecked  in  the  gale  whereat  the  conch  is  glad, 

Thy  sharp  peculiar  grief  is  uncomfortad  by  hope  of  compensation, 

For  it  is  a  delicate  and  spiritual  wound,  which  the  probe  of  pity  bruiseth  • 

Yet  hear  how  many  thoughts  extenuate  its  pain  ; 

Even  while  a  kindred  heart  can  sorrow  for  its  presence.      * 

For  the  Sting  of  neglect  is  in  this,— that  such  as  we  are,  all  f  argel  us, 

That  men  and  women,  kith  and  kin,  so  lightly  heed  of  other : 

Sympathy  is  lacking  from  the  guilty  such  as  we,  even  where  angela 

minister, 

And  souls  of  fine  accord  must  prize  a  fellow-sinner's  love ; 
For  the  worst  love  those  who  love  them,  and  the  best  claim  heart  for  heart, 
And  it  is  a  holy  thirst  to  long  for  love's  requital : 
Hard  it  will  be,  hard  and  sad,  to  love  and  be  unloved, 
And  many  a  thorn  is  thrust  into  the  side  of  him  that  is  forgotten. 
The  oppressive  silence  of  reserve,  the  frost  of  failing  friendship, 
Affection  blighted  by  repulse,  or  chilled  by  shallow  courtesy, 
The  unaided  struggle,  the  unconsidered  grief,  the  unesteemed  self-sacrifice, 
The  gift,  dear  evidence  of  kindness,  long  due,  but  never  offered, 
The  glance  estranged,  the  letter  flung  aside,  the  greeting  ill  received, 
The  services  of  unobtrusive  care  unthanked,  perchance  unheeded, 
These  things,  which  hard  men  mock  at,  rend  the  feelings  of  the  tender, 
For  the  delicate  tissue  of  a  spiritual  mind  is  torn  by  those  sharp  barbs  ; 
The  coldness  of  a  trusted  friend,  a  plentitude  ending  in  vacuity, 
Is  as  if  the  stable  world  had  burst  a  hollow  bubble, 

' 

But,  consider  child  of  sensibility  •,  the  lot  of  men  is  labour, 
Labour  for  the  mouth,  or  labour  JB  the  spirit,  labour  stern  and  individual. 
Worldly  cares  and  worldly  hopes  exact  the  thoughts  of  all, 
And  there  is  a  necessary  selfishness  rooted  in  each  mortal  breast. 
The  plans  of  prudence,  or  the  whisperings  of  pride,  or  all-absorbing  re- 
veries of  love, 

Ambition,  grief,  or  fear,  or  joy,  set  each  man  for  himself: 
Therefore,  the  centre  of  a  cycle,  whereunto  all  the  universe  convergeth, 
Is  seen  in  fallen  solitude,  the  naked  selfish  heart : 
Stripped  of  conventional  deceptions,  untrammelled  from  the  harness  of 

society, 
We  all  may  read  one  little  word  engraved  on  all  we  do ; 


182  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Other  men,  what  are  they  unto  us  ?  the  age,  the  mass,  the  million,— 

We  segregate  distinct  from  generalities,  that  isolated  particle,  a  self: 

II  is  the  very  law  of  our  life,  a  law  for  soul  and  body, 

An  earthly  law  for  earthly  men,  toiling  in  responsible  probation. 

For  each  is  the  all  unto  himself,  disguise  it  as  we  may, 

Each  infinite,  each  most  precious  ;  yet  even  as  a  nothing  to  his  neighbour. 

O  consider,  we  be  crowding  up  an  avenue,  trapped  in  the  decoy  of  time, 

Behind  us  the  irrevocable  past,  before  us  the  illimitable  future, 

What  wonder  is  there,  if  the  traveller,  wayworn,  hopeful,  fearful, 

Burdened  himself,  so  lightly  heed  the  burden  of  his  brother  ? 

How  shouldst  thou  marvel  and  be  sad  that  the  pilgrims  trouble  not  to  learn 

thee, 
When  each  hath  to  master  for  himself  the  lessons  of  life  and  immortality  ? 

Moreover,  what  art  tlrou, — so  vainly  impatient  of  neglect, 

Where  then  is  thy  worthiness,  that  so  thou  claimest  honour  ? 

Let  the  true  judgment  of  humility  reckon  up  thine  ill  deserts, 

How  little  is  there  to  be  loved,  how  much  to  stir  up  scorn  ? 

The  double  heart,  the  bitter  tongue,  the  rash  and  erring  spirit, 

Be  these,  ye  purest  among  men,  your  passports  into  favour  ? 

It  is  mercy  in  the  Merciful,  and  justice  in  the  Just,  to  be  jealous  of  his 

creature's  love, 

But  how  should  evil  or  duplicity  arrogate  affection  to  itself  ? 
Where  love  is  happiness  and  duty,  to  be  jealous  of  that  love  is  godlike, 
But  who  can  reverence  the  guilty  ?  who  findeth  pleasure  in  the  mean  ? 
Check  the  presumption  of  thy  hopes  :  thankfully  take  refuge  in  obscurity 
Or,  if  thou  claimest  merit,  thy  sin  shall  be  proclaimed  upon  the  housetops. 

Yet  again :  consider  them  of  old,  the  good,  the  great,  the  learned, 
Who  have  blessed  the  world-  by  wisdom,  and  glorified  their  God  by  purity 
Did  those  speed  in  favour  ?  were  they  the  loved  and  the  admired  ? 
Was  every  prophet  had  in  honour  ?  and  every  deserving  one  remembered 
to.  his  praise  ?  f 

What  shall  I  say  of  yonder  band,  a  glorious  cloud  of  witnesses, 
The  scorned,  defamed,  insulted, — but  tlie  excellent  of  earth  ? 
It  were  weariness  to  count  up  noble  names,  neglected  in  their  lives, 
Whom  none  esteemed,  nor  cared  to  love,  till  death  had  sealed  them  his. 
For  good  men  are  the  health  of  the  world,  valued  only  when  it  perisheth, 
Like  water,  light,  and  air,  all  precious  in  their  absence. 


OF  NEGLECT.  183 

Who  hath  considered  the  blessing  of  his  breath,  till  the  poison  of  an  asthma 

struck  him  ? 
Who  hath  regarded  the  just  pulses  of  his  heart,  till  sp'asm  or  paralysis 

have  stopped  them  ? 

Even  thus,  an  unobserved  routine  of  daily  grace  and  wisdom, 
When  no  more  here,  had  worship  of  a  world,  whose  penitence  atoned  for 

its  neglect.      * 
And  living  genius  is  seen  among  infirmities,  wherefrom  the  commoner  ate 

free ; 

And  other  rival  men  of  mind  crowd  this  arena  of  contention ; 
And  there  be  many  cares ;  and  a  man  knoweth  little  of  his  brother ; 
Feebly  we  appreciate  a  motive,  and  slowly  keep  pace  with  a  feeling ; 
And  social  difference  is  much ;  and  experience  teacheth  sadly, 
How  great  the  treachery  of  friends,  how  dangerous  the  courtesy  of  enemies 
So,  the  sum  of  all  these  things  operateth  largely  upon  all  men, 
Hedging  us  about  with  thorns,  to  cramp  our  yearning  sympathies, 
And  we  grow  materialized  in  mind,  forgetting  what  we  see  not, 
But,  immersed  in  perceptions  of  the  present,  keep  things  absent  out  of 

thought : 
Thus,  where  ingratitude,  and  guilt,  and  labour,  and  selfishness  would 

harden, 
Humbly  will  the  good  man  bow,  unmurmuring,  to  Neglect. 

Yet  once  more,  griever  at  Neglect,  hear  me  to  thy  comfort,  or  rebuke : 
For,  after  all  thy  just  complaint,  the  world  is  full  of  love. 
O  heart  of  childhood,  tender,  trusting,  and  affectionate, 
O  youth,  warm  youth,  full  of  generous  attentions, 
O  woman,  self-forgetting  woman,  poetry  of  human  life ; 
And  not  less  thou,  O  man,  so  often  the  disinterested  brother, 
Many  a  smile  of  love,  many  a  tear  of  pity,  • 
Many  a  word  of  comfort,  many  a  deed  of  magnanimity, 
Many  a  stream  of  milk  and  honey  pour  ye  freely  on  the  earth, 
And  many  a  rosebud  of  love  rejoieeth  in  the  dew  of  your  affection. 
Neglect  ?  O  liberal  world,  for  thine  are  many  prizes : 
Neglect  ?  O  charitable  world,  where  thousands  feed  on  bounty ; 
Neglect  ?  O  just  world,  for  thy  judgments  err  not  often ; 
Neglect  ?  O  libel  on  a  world,  where  half  that  world  is  woman ! 
VThere  is  the  afflicted,  whose -voice,  oace  heard,  stirreth  not  a  host  of  com 
forters  ? 

Jr 


184  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Where  is  the  sick  untended,  or  in  prison,  and  they  visited  him  not  ? 

The  hungry  is  fed,  and  the  thirsty  satisfied,  tUl  ability  set  limits  to  th* 

will,  . 

And  those  who  did  it  unto  them,  have  done  it  unto  God  ! 
For  human  benevolence  is  large,  though  many  matters  dwarf  it, 
Prudence,  ignorance,  imposture,  and  the  straitenings  of  circumstance  and 

time. 

And  if  to  the  body,  so  to  the  mind,  the  mass  of  men  are  generous : 
Their  estimate  who  know  us  best,  is  seldom  seen  to  err : 
Be  sure  the  fault  is  thine,  as  pride,  or  shallowness,  or  vanity, 
If  all  around  thee,  good  and  bad,  neglect  thy  seeming  merit : 
No  man  yet  deserved,  who  found  not  some  to  love  him  ; 
And  he  that  never  kept  a  friend  need  only  blame  himself : 
Many  for  unworthiness  will  droop  and  die,  but  all  arc  not  unworthy  j 
It  must  indeed  be  cold  clay  soil  that  killeth  every  seed. 
Therefore  examine  thy  state,  O  self-accounted  martyr  of  Neglect, 
It  may  be,  thy  merit  is  a  cubit,  and  thy  measure  thereof  a  furlong : 
But  grant  it  greater  than  thy  thoughts,  and  grant  that  men  thy  fellows 
For  pleasure,  business,  or  interest,  misuse,  forget,  neglect  thee, — 
Still  be  thou  conqueror  in  this,  the  consciousness  of  high  deservings  ; 
Let  it  suffice  thee  to  be  worthy  ^    faint  not  thou  for  praise ; 
For  that  thou  art,  be  grateful ;  go  humbly  even  in  thy  confidence  ; 
And  set  thy  foot  on  the  neck  of  an  enemy  so  harmless  as  NeglecL. 


OF   CONTENTMENT. 

GODLINESS  with  Contentment, — these  be  the  pillars  of  felicity, 
Jachin,  wherewithal  it  is  established,  and  Boaz,  in  the  which  is  strength  :  (l§) 
And  upon  their  capitals  is  lily-work,  the  lotus  fruit  and  flower, 
Those  fair  ajid  fragrant  types  of  holiness,  innocence,  and  beauty ; 
Great  gain  pertaineth  to  the  pillars,  nets  and  chains  of  wreathen  gold, 
And  they  stand  up  straight  in  the  temple  porch,  the  house  where  Glory 
dwelleth. 

The  body  craveth  meats,  and  the  spirit  is  athirst  for  peacefulness  ; 
He  that  hath  these,  hath  enough  j  for  all  beyond  is  vanity. 


OF  CONTENTMENT.  185 

Surfeit  vaulteth  over  pleasure,  to  light  upon  the  hither  side  of  pain ; 

And  great  store  is  great  care,  the  rather  if  it  mightily  increaseth. 

Albeit  too  little  is  a  trouble,  yet  too  much  shall  swell  into  an  evil, 

If  wisdom  stand  not  nigh  to  moderate  the  wishes  : 

For  covetousness  never  had  enough,  but  moaneth  at  its  wants  for  ever, 

And  rich  men  -have  commonly  more  need  to  be  taught  contentment  thafl 

the  poor. 

,  That  hungry  chasm  in  their  market-place  gapeth  still  Imsatisfied, 
Yea,  fling  in  all  the  wealth  of  Rome, — it  asketh  higher  victims ; 
So,  when  the  miser's  gold  cannot  fill  the  measure  of  his  lust, 
Curtius  must  leap  into  the  pit,  and  avarice  shall  close  upon  his  life.  (") 

Behold  Independence  in  his  rags,  all  too  easily  contented, 

Careful  for  nothing,  thankful  for  much,  and  uncomplaining  in  his  poverty ; 

Such  an  one  have  I  somewhile  seen  earn  his  crust  with  gladness : 

He  is  a  gatherer  of  simples,  culling  wild  herbs  upon  the  hills : 

And  now,  as  he  sitteth  on  the  beach,  with  his  mortherless  child  beside  him, 

To  rest  them  in  the  cheerful  sun,  and  sort  their  mints  and  horehound, — 

Tell  me,  can  ye  find  upon  his  forehead  the  cloud  of  covetous  anxiety, 

Or  note  the  dull  unkindled  eyes  of  sated  sons  of  pleasure  ? — 

For  there  is  more  joy  of  life  with  that  poor  picker  of  the  ditches, 

Than  among  the  multitude  of  wealthy  who  wed  their  gains  to  discontent. 

I  have  seen  many  rich,  burdened  with  the  fear  of  poverty; 

I  liave  seen  many  poor,  buoyed  with  all  the  carelessness  of  wealth ; 

For  the  rich  had  the  spirit  of  a  pauper,  and  the  moneyless  a  liberal  neart ; 

The  first  enjoyeth  not  for  having,  and  the  latter  hath  nothing  but  enjoy 
ment. 

None  is  poor  but  the  mean  in  mind,  the  timorous,  the  weak,  and  unbe- 
lieving ; 

None  is  wealthy  but  the  affluent  in  soul,  who  is  satisfied  and  floweth  over. 

The  poor-rich  is  attenuate  for  fears,  the  rich-poor  is  fattened  upon  hopes ; 

Cheerfulness  is  one  man's  welcome,  and  the  other  warneth  from  him  by 
his  gloom. 

Many  poor  have  the  pleasures  of  the  rich,  even  in  their  own  possessions ; 

And  many  rich  miss  the  poor  man's  comforts,  and  yet  feel  all  his  cares. 

Liberty  is  affluence,  and  the  Helots  of  anxiety  never  can  be  counted  weal- 
thy; 

But  he  that  is  disenthralled  from  fear,  goeth  for  the  time  a  king ; 


186  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

He  is  royal,  great,  and  opulent,  living  free  of  fortune, 
And  looking  on  the  world  as  owner  of  its  good,  the  Maker's  child  and  heir 
Whereas  the  covetous  is  slavish,  a  very  Midas  in  his  avarice. 
Full  of  dismal  dreams,  and  starved  amongst  his  treasures  : 
The  ceaseless  spur  of  discontent  goaded  him  with  instant  apprehension, 
And  his  thirst  for  gold  could  never  be  quenched,  for  he  drank  with  tlit 
throat  of  Crassus.  (") 

Vanity  and  dreary  disappointment,  care,  and  weariness  and  envy ; 

Vanity  is  graven  upon  all  things ;  wisely  spake  the  preacher. 

For  ambition  is  a  burning  mountain,  thrown  up  amid  the  turbid  sea, 

A  Stromboli  in  sullen  pride  above  the  hissing  waves : 

And  the  statesman  climbing  there,  forgetful  of  his  patriot  intentions, 

Shall  hate  the  strife  of  each  rough  step,  or  ever  he  hath  toiled  midway ; 

And  every  truant  from  his  home,  the  happy  home  of  duty, 

Shall  live  to  loathe  his  eminence  of  cares,  that  seething  smoke  and  lava. 

Contentment  is  the  temperate  repast,  flowing  with  milk  and  honey ; 

Ambition  is  the  drunken  orgy,  fed  by  liquid  flames  ; 

A  black  and  bitter  frown  is  stamped  upon  the  forehead  of  Ambition, 

But  fair  Contentment's  angel-face  is  rayed  with  winning  smiles. 

There  was  in  Tyre  a  merchant,  the  favourite  child  of  fortune, 
An  opulent  man  with  many  ships,  to  trade  in  many  climes  ;       , 
And  he  rose  up  early  to  his  merchandise,  after  feverish  dreaming, 
And  lay  down  late  to  his  hot  unrest,  overwhelmed  with  calculated  cares. 
So,  day  by  day,  and  month  by  month,  and  year  by  year,  he  gained ; 
And  grew  gray,  and  waxed  great ;  for  money  brought  him  all  things. 
All  things  ? — verily -not  all ;  the  kernel  of  the  nut  is  lacking, — 
His  mind  was  a  stranger  to  content,  and  as  for  Peace,  he  knew  her  not : 
Luxuries  palled  upon  his  palate,  and  his  eyes  were  satiate  with  purple ; 
He  could  coin  much  gold,  but  buy  no  happiness  with  it. 
And  on  a  day,  a  day  of  dread,  in  the  heat  of  inordinate  ambition, 
When  he  threw  with  a  gambler's  hand,  to  lose  or  to  double  his  posses- 
sions, \ 
The  chance  hit  him, — he  had  speculated  ill, — and  men  began  to  whisper  ;— 
Those  he  trusted,  failed ;  and  their  usuries  had  bribed  him  deeply  : 
One  ship  foundered  out  at  sea, — and  another  met  the  pirate, — 
And  so,  with  broken  fortunes,  men  discreetly  shunned  him. 
He  was  a  stricken  stag,  and  went  to  hide  away  in  solitude, 


OF  CONTENTMENT.  187 

And  there  in  humility,  he  thought, — he  resolved,  and  promptly  acted : 
From  the  wreck  of  all  his  splendours,  from  the  dregs  of  the  goblet  of  afflu- 
ence, 
He  saved  with  management  a  morsel  and  a  drop,  for  his  daily  cup  and 

platter : 

And  lo,  that  little  was  enough,  and  in  enough  was  competence : 
His  cares  were  gone, — he  slept  by  night,  and  lived  at  peace  by  day : 
Cured  of  his  guilty  selfishness, — money's  love,  envy,  competition, — 
He  lived  to  be  thankful  in  a  cottage  that  he  had  lost  a  palace : 
For  he  found  in  his  abasement,  what  he  vainly  had  sought  hi  high  estate, 
Both  mind  and  body  well  at  ease,  though  robed  in  the  russet  of  the  lowly 

Once  more ;  a  certain  priest,  happy  in  his  high  vocation, 

With  faith,  and  hope,  and  charity,  well  served  his  village  altar ; 

As  men  count  riches,  he  was  poor  ;  but  great  were  his  treasures  in  heaven, 

And  great  his  joys  on  earth,  for  God's  sake  doing  good  : 

He  had  few  cares  and  many  consolations,  one  of  the  welcome  every  where ; 

The. labourer  accounted  him  his  friend,  and  magnates  did  him  honour  at 

their  table : 

With  a  large  heart  and  little  means  he  still  made  many  grateful, 
And  felt  as  the  centre  of  a  circle,  of  comfort,  calmness,  and  content. 
But  on  a  weaker  Sabbath, — for  he  preached  both  well  and  wisely, — 
Some  casual  hearer  loudly  praised  his  great  neglected  talents : 
Why  should  he  be  buried  in  obscurity,  and  throw  these  pearls  to  swine  ? 
Could  he  not  still  be  doing  good, — the  whilst  he  pushed  his  fortunes  ? 
Then  came  temptation,  even  on  the  spark  of  discontent ; 
The  neighbouring  town  had  a  pulpit  to  be  filled ;  hotly  did  he  canvass  and 

won  it : 

Now  was  he  popular  and  courted,  and  listened  to  the  spell  of  admiration, 
And  toiled  to  please  the  taste,  rather  than  to  pierce  the  conscience. 
Greedily  he  sought,  and  seeking  found,  the  patronizing  notice  of  the  great ; 
He  thirsted  for  emoluments  and  honours,  and  counted  rich  men  happy  : 
So  he  flattered,  so  he  preached  ;  and  gold  and  fame  flowed  in ; 
They  flowed  in, — he  was  reaping  his  reward, — and  he  felt  himself  a  fool. 
Alas,  what  a  shadow  was  he  following, — how  precious  was  the  substance 

he  had  left ! 

Man  for  God,  gold  for  good,  this  was  his  miserable  bargain. 
The  village  church,  its  humble  flock,  and  humbler  .parish  priest, 
Zeal,  devotion,  and  approving  heaven, — his  books,  and  simple  life. 


188  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

His  little  farm  and  flower-beds, — his  recreative  rambles  with  a  friend, 
And  haply  at  the  eventide  the  leaping  trouts,  to  help  their  humble  farty— • 
All  these  wretchedly  exchanged  for  what  the  world  called  fortune, 
With  the  harrowing  conscience  of  a  state  relapsed  to  vain  ambitions. 
Then,  for  God  was  gracious  to  his  soul,  his  better  thoughts  returned, 
And  better,  aims  with  better  thoughts,  his  holy  walk  of  old. 
Sickened  of  style,  and  ostentation,  and  the  dissipative  fashions  of  society, 
He  deserted  from  the  ranks  of  Mammon,  and  renewed  his  allegiance  to 

God: 

For  he  found  that  the  praises  of  men,  and  all  that  gold  can  give, 
Are  not  worthy  to  be  named  against  godliness  and  calm  contentment. 


OF    LIFE. 

A  CHILD  was  playing  in  a  garden,  a  merry  little  child, 
Bounding  with  triumphant  health,  and  full  of  happy  fancies  ; 
His  kite  was  floating  in  the  sunshine, — but  he  tied  the  string  to  a  twig, 
And  ran  among  the  roses  to  catch  a  new-born  butterfly ; 
His  horn-book  lay  upon  a  bank,  but  the  pretty  truant  hid  it,       « 
Buried  up  in  gathered  grass,  and  moss,  and  sweet  wild-thyme ; 
He  launched  a  paper  boat  upon  the  fountain, — then  wayward  turned  aside, 
To  twine  some  vagrant  jessamines  about  the  dripping  marble  : 
So,  in  various  pastime,  shadowing  the  schemes  of  manhood, 
That  curly-headed  boy  consumed  the  golden  hours : 
And  I  blessed  his  glowing  face,  envying  the  merry  little  child, 
As  he  shouted  with  the  ecstasy  of  being,  clapping  his  hands  for  joyfulnesa : 
For  I  said,  Surely,  O  Life,  thy  name  is  happiness  and  hope, 
Thy  days  are  bright,  thy  flowers  are  sweet,  and  pleasure  the  condition  of 
thy  gift. 

A  youth  was  walking  in  the  moonlight,  walking  not  alone, 

For  a  fair  and  gentle  maid  leant  on  his  trembling  arm  : 

Their  whispering  was  still  of  beauty,  and  the  light  of  love  was  in  their 

eyes, 
Their  twih  young  hearts  had  not  a  thought  unvowed  to  love  and  beauty : 


OF  LIFE.  189 

The  stars,  and  the  sleeping  world,  and  the  guardian  eye  of  God, 

The  murmur  of  the  distant  waterfall,  and  nightingales  warbling  in  the 

thicket, 

Sweet  speech  of  years  to  come,  and  promises  of  fondest  hope, 
And  more,  a  present  gladness  in  each  other's  trust ; 
All  these  fed  their  souls  with  the  hidden  manna  of  affection, 
While  their  faces  shone  beatified  in  the  radiance  of  reflected  Eden: 
I  gazed  on  that  fond  youth,  and  coveted  his  heart, 
Attuned  to  holiest  symphonies,  with  music  in  its  strings ; 
For  I  said,  Surely,  O  Life,  thy  name  is  love  and  beauty ; 
Thy  joys  are  full,  thy  looks  most  fair,  thy  feelings  pure  and  sensitive. 

A  man  sat  beside  his  merchandise,  a  careworn  altered  man, 

His  waking  hope,  his  nightly  fear,  were  money  and  its  losses : 

Rarely  was  the  laugh  upon  the  cheek,  except  in  bitter  scorn, 

For  his  foolishness  of  heart,  and  the  lie  of  its  romance,  counting  Love  a 

treasure. 

His  talk  is  of  stern  Reality,  chilling  unimaginative  facts, 
The  dull  material  accidents  of  this  sensual  body ; 
Lucreless  honour  were  contemptible,  impoverished  affection  but  a  pauper'* 

riches, 

Duty,  struggling  unrewarded,  the  bargain  of  a  cheated  fool ; 
The  marked-value  of  a  fancy  must  be  measured  by  the  gain  it  bringeth, 
No  man  is  fed,  or  clothed  by  fame,  or  love,  or  duty : — 
So  toiled  he  day  by  day,  that  cold  and  joyless  man ; 
I  gazed  upon  his  haggard  face,  and  sorrowed  for  the  change : 
For  I  said,  Surely,  O  Life,  thy  name  is  care  and  weariness, 
Thy  soul  is  parched,  thy  winds  are  fierce,  and  the  suns  above  thee  har- 
dening. 

A  withered  elder  lay  upon  his  bed,  a  desokte  man  and  feeble ; 
His  thoughts  were  of  the  past,  the  early  past,  the  bygone  days  of  youth : 
Bitterly  repented  he  the  years  stolen  by  the  god  of  this  world  : 
Remembering  the  maiden  of  his  love,  and  the  heart-stricken  wife  of  but 

selfishness. 

For  the  sunshiny  morning  of  life  came  again  to  him  a  vivid  truth, 
But  the  years  of  toil  as  a  long  dim  dream,  a  cloudy  blighted  noon : 
He  saw  the  nutting  schoolboy,  but  forgat  the  speculative  merchant ; 
The  callous  calculating  husband  was  shamed  by  the  generous  lover : 


90  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

He  knew  that  the  weeds  of  worldliness,  and  the  smoky  breath  of  Mammon 
Had  choked  and  killed  those  tender  shoots,  his  yearnings  after  honour  and 

affection : 

So  was  he  sick  at  heart,  and  my  pity  strove  to  cheer  him, 
But  a  deep  and  dismal  gulf  lay  between  comfort  and  his  soul. 
Then  I  said,  Surely,  O  Life,  thy  name  is  vanity  and  sorrow, 
Thy  storms  at  noon  are  many,  and  thine  eventide  is  clouded  by  remorse. 

Now,  when  I  thought  upon  these  things,  my  heart  was  grieved  within  me : 
I  wept  with  bitterness  of  speech,  and  these  were  the  words  of  my  com- 
plaining : 

"  Wherefore  then  must  happiness  and  love  wither  into  care  and  vanity,— 
Wherefore  is  the  bud  so  beautiful,  but  flower  and  fruit  so  blighted  ? 
Hard  is  the  lot  of  man ;  to  be  lured  by  the  meteor  of  romance, 
Only  to  be  snared,  and  to  sink,  in  the  turbid  mud-pool  of  reality."     . 

Suddenly,  a  light, — and  a  rushing  presence, — and  a  consciousness  of 

something  near  me, — 

I  trembled,  and  listened,  and  prayed :  then  I  knew  the  Angel  of  Life : 
Vague,  and  dimly  visible,  mine  eye  could  not  behold  him, 
As,  calmly  unimpassioned,  he  looked  upon  an  erring  creature  : 
Unseen,  my  spirit  apprehended  him ;  though  he  spake  not,  yet  I  heard ;     , 
For  a  sympathetic  communing  with  Him  flashed  upon  my  mind  electric. 

Pensioner  of  God,  be  grateful ;  the  gift  of  Life  is  good  : 

The  life  of  heart,  and  life  of  soul,  mingled  with  life  for  the  body. 

Gladness  and  beauty  are  its  just  inheritance, — the  beauty  thou  hast 

counted  for  romance : 

And  guardian  spirits  weep  that  selfishness  and  sorrow  should  destroy  it. 
Thou  hast  seen  the  natural  blessing  marred  into  a  curse  by  man ; 
Come  then,  in  favour  will  I  show  thee  the  proper -excellence  of  life. 
Keep  thou  purity,  and  watch  against  suspicion, — love  shall  never  perish ; 
Guard  thine  innocency  spotless,  and  the  buoyancy  of  childhood  shall  remaiu.  > 
Sweet  ideals  feed  the  soul,  thoughts  of  loveliness  delight  it ; 
The  chivalrous  affection  of  uncalculating  youth  lacketh  not  honourablo 

wisdom. 

Charge  not  folly  on  invisibles,  that  render  thee  happier  and  purer: 
The  fair  frail  visions  of  Romance  have  a  use  beyond  the  maxims  of  the 

Real. 


OF  LIFE.  131 

Behold,  a  patriarch  of  years,  who  leaneth  on  the  staff  of  religion ; 

His  heart  is  fresh,  quick  to  feel,  a  bursting  fount  of  generosity ; 

He,  playful  in  his  wisdom,  is  gladdened  in  his  children's  gladness : 

He,  pure  in  his  experience,  loveth  in  his  son's  first  love : 

Lofty  aspirations,  deep  affections,  holy  hopes  a*B  his  delight ; 

His  abhorrence  is  to  strip  from  Life  its  charitable  garment  of  Ideal. 

The  cold  and  callous  sneerer,  who  heedeth  of  the  merely  practical, 

And  mocketh  at  good  uses  in  imaginary  things,  that  man  is  his  scorn ; 

The  hard  unsympathizing  modern,  filled  with  facts  and  figures, 

Cautious  and  coarse,  and  materialized  in  mind,  that  man  is  his  pity. 

Passionate  thirst  for  gain  never  hath  burnt  within  his  bosom  ; 

The  leaden  chains  of  that  dull  lust  have  not  bound  him  prisoner : 

The  shrewd  world  laughed  at  him  for  honesty,  the  vain  world  mouthed  at 

him  for  honour, 
The  false  world  hated  him  for  truth,  the  cold  world  despised  him  for 

affection : 

Still,  he  kept  his  treasure,  the  warm  and  noble  heart, 
And  in  that  happy  wise  old  man  survive  the  child  and  lover. 
For  human  Life  is  as  Chian  wine,  flavoured  unto  him  who  drinketh  it, 
Delicate  fragrance  comforting  the  soul,  as  needful  substance  for  the  body  J 
Therefore,  see  thou  art  pure  and  guileless ;  so  shall  thy  Realities  of  Life 
Be  sweetened,  and  tempered,  and  gladdened  by  the  wholesome  spirit  of 

Romance. 

Dost  thou  live,  man,  dost  thou  live, — or  only  breathe  and  labour  ? 

Art  thou  free,  or  enslaved  to  a  routine,  the  daily  machinery  of  habit  ? 

For  one  man  is  quickened  into  Life,  where  thousands  exist  as  in  a  torpor, 

Feeding,  toiling,  sleeping,  an  insensate  weary  round : 

The  plough,  or  the  ledger,  or  the  trade,  with  animal  cares  and  indolence, 

Make  the  mass  of  vital  years  a  heavy  lump  unleavened. 

Drowsily  lie  down  in  thy  dullness,  fettered  with  the  irons  of  circumstance, 

Thou  wilt  not  wake  to  think  and  feel  a  minute  in  a  month. 

The  epitome  of  common  life  is  seen  in  the  common  epitaph, 

Born  on  such  a  day,  and  dead  on  such  another,  with  an  interval  of  three- 
score years. 

For  time  hath  been  wasted  on  the  senses,  to  the  hourly  diminishing  of 
spirit ; 

Lean  is  the  soul  and  pineth,  in  the 'midst  of  abundance  for  the  body: 

He  forgat  the  world  to  which  he  tended,  and  a  creature's  true  nobility, 


192  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Nor  wished  that  hope  and  wholesome  fear  should  stir  him  from  his  hardened 

satisfaction. 

And  tnis  is  death  in  life ;  to  be  sunk  beneath  the  waters  of  the  Actual, 
Without  one  feebly-struggling  sense  of  an  airier  spiritual  realm : 
Affection,  fancy,  feeling— <read  ;  imagination,  conscience,  faith, 
All  wilfully  expunged,  till  they  leave  the  man  mere  carcass. 
See  thou  livest,  whiles  thou  art :  for  heart  must  live,  and  soul, 
But  care  and  sloth  and  sin  and  self,  combine  to  kill  that  life. 
A  man  will  grow  to  an  automaton,  an  appendage  to  die  counter  or  the 

desk, 

If  mind  and  spirit  be  not  roused  to  raise  the  plodding  groveller: 
Then  praise  God  for  Sabbaths,  for  books,  and  dreams,  and  pains, 
For  the  recreative  face  of  nature,  and  the  kindling  charities  of  home ; 
And  remember,  thou  that  labourest, — thy  leisure  is  not  loss, 
If  it  help  to  expose  and  undermine  that  solid  falsehood,  the  Material. 

Life  is  a  strange  avenue  of  various  trees  and  flowers ; 

Lightsome  at  commencement,  but  darkening  to  its  end  in  a  distant  massy 

portal. 

It  beginneth  as  a  little  path,  edged  with  the  violet  and  primrose, 
A  little  path  of  lawny  grass,  and  soft  to  tiny  feet : 
Soon,  spring  thistles  in  the  way,  those  early  griefs  of  school, 
And  fruit-trees  ranged  on  either  hand  show  holiday  delights : 
Anon,  the  rose  and  the  mimosa  hint  at  sensitive  affection, 
And  vipers  hide  among  the  grass,  and  briers  are  woven  in  tne  hedges : 
Shortly,  staked  along  in  order,  stand  the  slender  saplings, 
While  hollow  hemlock  and  tall  ferns  fill  the  frequent  interval : 
So  advancing,  quaintly  mixed,  majestic  fine  the  way 
Sturdy  oaks,  and  vigorous  elms,  the  beech  and  forest-pine : 
And  here  the  road  is  rough  with  rocks,  wide,  and  scant  of  herbage, 
The  sun  is  hot  in  heaven,  and  the  ground  is  cleft  and  parched :     . 
And  many-times  a  hollow-trunk,  decayed  or  lightning-scathed, 
Or  in  its  deadly  solitude,  the  melancholy  upas  : 
But  soon,  with  closer  ranks,  are  set  the  sentinel  trees, 
And  darker  shadows  hover  amongst  Autumn's  mellow  tints ; 
Ever  and  anon,  a  holly, — junipers,  and  cypresses,  and  yews ; 
The  soil  is  damp  ;  the  air  is  chill ;  night  cometh  on  apace : 
Speed  to  the  portal,  traveller, — lo,  there  is  a  moon, 
With  smiling  light  to  guide  thee  safely  through  the  dreadful  shade : 


OF  DEATH.  198 

Hark, — that  hollow  knock, — behold,  the  warder  openeth, 

The  gate  is  gaping,  and  for  thee ; — those  are  the  jaws  of  Death ! 


OF   DEATH. 

KEEP  silence,  daughter  of  frivolity, — for  Death  is  in  tliat  chamber ! 

Startle  not  with  echoing  sound  the  strangely  solemn  peace. 

Death  is  here  in  spirit,  watcher  of  a  marble  corpse, — 

That  eye  is  fixed,  that  heart  is  still, — how  dreadful  in  its  stillness ! 

Death,  new  tenant  of  the  house,  pervadeth  all  the  fabric ; 

He  waiteth  at  the  head,  and  he  standeth  at  the  feet,  and  hideth  in  fie 

caverns  of  the  breast : 

Death,  subtle  leech,  hath  anatomized  soul  from  body, 
Dissecting  well  in  every  nerve  its  spirit  from  its  substance : 
Death,  rigid  lord,  hath  claimed  the  heriot  clay, 
While  joyously  the  youthful  soul  hath  gone  to  take  his  heritage ; 
Death,  cold  usurer,  hath  seized  his  bonded  debtor ; 
Death,  savage  despot,  hath  caught  his  forfeit  serf; 
Death,  blind  foe,  wreaketh  petty  vengeance  on  the  flesh ; 
Death,  fell  cannibal,  gloateth  on  his  victim, 
And  carrieth  it  with  him  to  the  grave,  that  dismal  banquet-hall, 
Where  in  foul  state  the  Royal  Goul  holdeth  secret  orgies. 

Hide  it  up,  hide  it  up,  draw  the  decent  curtain : 

Hence  !  curious  fool,  and  pry  not  on  corruption : 

For  the  fearful  mysteries  of  change  are  being  there  enacted, 

And  many  actors  play  their  part  on  that  small  stage,  the  tomb. 

Leave  the  clay,  that  leprous  thing,  touch  not  the  fleshly  garment : 

Dust  to  dust,  it  mingleth  well  among  the  sacred  soil : 

It  is  scattered  by  the  winds,  it  is  wafted  by  the  waves,  it  mixeth  witn  herbs 

and  cattle, 

But  God  hath  watched  those  morsels,  and  hath  guided  them  in  care : 
Each  waiting  soul  must  claim  his  own,  when  the  archangel  soundeth, 
And  all  the  fields,  and  all  the  hills,  shall  move  a  mass  of  life  ; 
Bodies  numberless,  crowding  on  the  land,  and  covering  the  trampled  sea, 

9 


194  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Darkening  the  air  precipitate,  and  gathered  scatheless  from  the  fire ; 
The  Himalayan  peaks  shall  yield  their  charge,  and  the  desolate  steppes  of 

Siberia, 

The  MaelstrOm  disengulf  its  spoil,  and  the  iceberg  manumit  its  captive : 
All  shall  teem  with  life,  the  converging  fragments  of  humanity, 
Till  every  conscious  essence  greet  his  individual  frame  ; 
For  in  some  dignified  similitude,  alike,  yet  different  in  glory, 
This  body  shall  be  shaped  anew,  fit  dwelling  for  the  soul : 
The  hovel  hath  grown  to  a  palace,  the  bulb  hath  burst  into  the  flower, 
Matter  hath  put  on  incorruption,  and  is  at  peace  with  spirit. 

Amen, — and  so  it  shall  be  : — but  now,  the  scene  is  drear, — 

Yea,  though  promises  and  hope  strive  to  cheat  its  sadness  ; 

Full  of  grief,  though  faith  herself  is  strong  to  speed  the  soul, 

For  the  partner  of  its  toil  is  left  behind  to  endure  an  ordeal  of  change. 

Dear  partner,  dear  and  frail,  my  loved  though  humble  home, — 

Should  I  cast  thee  off  without  a  pang,  as  a  garment  flung  aside  ? 

Many  years,  for  joy  and  sorrow,  have  I  dwelt  in  thee, 

How  shall  I  be  reckless  of  thy  weal,  nor  hope  for  thy  perfection  ? 

This  also,  He  that  lent  thee  for  my  uses  in  mortality, 

Shall  well  fulfill  with  boundless  praise  on  that  returning  day. 

Behold,  thou  shall  be  glorified  ;  thou,  mine  abject  friend, — 

And  should  I  meanly  scorn  thy  state,  until  it  rise  to  greatness  ? 

Far  be  it,  O  my  soul,  from  thine  expectant  essence, 

To  be  heedless,  if  indignity  or  folly  desecrate  those  thine  ashes : 

Keep  them  safe  with  careful  love ;  and  let  the  mound  be  holy  ; 

And,  thou  that  passest  by,  revere  the  waiting  dead. 

Naples  sitteth  by  the  sea,  keystone  of  an  arch  of  azure, 

Crowned  by  consenting  nations  peerless  queen  of  gayety : 

She  laugheth  at  the  wrath  of  Ocean,  she  mocketh  the  fury  of  Vesuvius, 

She  spurneth  disease  and  misery  and  famine,  that  crowd  ber  sunny  street : 

The  giddy  dance,  the  merry  song,  the  festal  glad  procession, 

The  noonday  slumber  and  the  midnight  serenade, — all  these  make  up  her 

Life; 

Her  Life  ? — and  what  her  Death  ? — look  we  to  the  end  of  life, — 
Solon,  and  Tellus  the  Athenian,  wisely  have  ye  pointed  to  the  grave. 
For  behold  yon  dreary  precinct, — those  hundreds  of  stone  wells, — (lf) 
A  pit  for  a  day,  a  pit  for  a  day, — a  pit  to  be  sealed  for  a  year : 


OF  DEATH.  195 

And  in  the  gloom  of  night,  they  raised  the  year-closed  lid, — 

Look  in, — for  gnawing  lime  hath  half  consumed  the  carcasses ; 

Thus,  they  hurl  the  daily  dead  into  that  horrible  pit, 

The  dead  that  only  died  this  day, — as  unconsidered  offal ! 

There,  a  stark  white  heap,  unwept,  unloved,  uncared  for, 

Old  men  and  maidens,  young  men  and  infants,  mingle  in  hideous  corrup- 

tion :  * 

Fling  in  the  gnawing  lime, — seal  up  the  chamel  for  a  year ; 
JFor  lo,  a  morrow's  dawn  hath  tinged  the  mountain  summit. 
O  fair  false  city,  thou  gay  and  gilded  harlot, 
Woe,  for  thy  wanton  heart ;  woe,  for  thy  wicked  hardness : 
Woe  unto  thee,  that  the  lightsomeness  of  Life,  beneath  Italian  suns, 
Should  meet  the  solemnity  of  Death  hi  a  sepulchre  so  foul  and  fearful. 

For  that,  even  to  the  best,  the  wise  and  pure  and  pious, 

Death,  repulsive  king,  thine  iron  rule  is  terrible : 

Yea,  and  even  at  the  best,  in  company  of  buried  kindred, 

With  hallowing  rites,  and  friendly  tears,  and  the  dear  old  country  church, 

Death,  cold  and  lonely,  thy  frigid  face  is  hateful, 

The  bravest  look  on  thee  with  dread,  the  humblest  curse  thy  coining. 

Still,  ye  unwise  among  mankind,  your  foolishness  hath  added  fears ; 

The  crowded  cemetery,  the  catacomb  of  bones,  the  pestilential  vault, 

With  fancy's  gliding  ghost  at  eve,  her  moans  and  flaky  footfalls, 

And  the  gibbering  train  of  terror  to  fright  your  coward  hearts. 

We  speak  not  here  of  sin,  nor  the  phantoms  of  a  bloody  conscience, 

Nor  of  solaces,  and  merciful  pardon ;  we  heed  but  the  inevitable  grave ; 

The  grave,  that  wage  of  guilt,  that  due  return  to  dust, 

The  grave,  that  goal  of  earth,  and  starting-post  for  heaven. 

Plant  it  with  laurels,  sprinkle  it  with  lilies,  set  it  upon  yonder  dewy  hiD, 

Midst  holy  prayers,  and  generous  grief,  and  consecrating  blessings : 

Jjet  Sophocles  sleep  among  his  ivy,  green  perennial  garlands,  (1T) 

Let  olives  shade  their  Virgil,  and  roses  bloom  above  Corinne ; 

To  his  foster-mother,  Ocean,  intrust  the  mariner  in  hope, 

The  warrior's  spirit,  let  it  rise  on  high,  from  the  flaming  fragrant  pyre. 

But  heap  not  coffins  and  corruption  to  infect  the  mass  of  living, 

Nor  steal  from  odious  realities  the  charitable  poetry  of  Death : 

It  is  wise  to  gild  uncomeliness,  it  is  wise  to  mask  necessity, 

Tt  is  wise  from  cheerful  sights  and  sounds  to  draw  their  genLe  usei  j 


196  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Hide  the  facts,  the  bitter  facts,  the  foul  and  fearful  facts, 

Tend  the  body  well  in  hope,  this  were  praise  and  wisdom  ; 

But  to  plunge  in  gloom  the  parting  soul,  that  hath  loved  its  clay  tenement 
so  long,  fp\?. 

This  were  vanity  and  folly,  the  counsel  of  moroseness  and  despair. 

Not  thus  the  Scythian  of  old  time  welcomed  Death  with  songs ; 

Not  thus  the  shrewd  Egyptian  decorated  Death  with  braveries ; 

Not  thus  on  his  funeral  tower  sleepeth  the  sun-worshipping  Parsee ; 

Not  thus  the  Moslem  saint  lieth  in  his  arabesque  mausoleum ; 

Not  thus  the  wild  red  Indian,  hunter  of  the  far  Missouri, 

In  flowering  trees  hath  nested  up  his  forest-loving  ancestry ;  ('*) 

Not  thus  the  Switzer  mountaineer  scattereth  ribboned  garlands 

About  the  rustic  cross  that  halloweth  the  bed  of  his  beloved  ; 

Not  thus  the  village  maiden  wisheth  she  may  die  in  spring, 

With  store  of  violets  and  cowslips  to  be  sprinkled  on  her  snow-white 
shroud ; 

Not  thus  the  dying  poet  asketh  a  cheerful  grave, — 

Lay  him  in  the  sunsliine,  friends,  nor  sorrow  that  a  Christian  hath  de- 
parted ! 

Yea,  it  is  the  poetiy  of  Death,  an  Orpheus  gladdening  Hades, 

To  care  with  mindful  love  for  all  so  dear — and  dead  ; 

To  think  of  them  in  hope,  to  look  for  them  in  joy,  and — but  for  its  simple 
vanity, — 

To  pray  with  all  the  eaVnestness  of  nature  for  souls  who  cannot  change. 

For  the  tree  is  felled,  and  boughed,  and  bare,  and  the  Measurer  standeth 
with  his  line  ; 

The  chance  is  gone  for  ever,  and  is  past  the  reach  of  prayer  : 

For  men  and  angels,  good  and  ill,  have  rendered  all  their  witness  ; 

The  trial  is  over,  the  jury  are  gone  in,  and  none  can  now  be  heard ; 

Well  are  they  agreed  upon  the  verdict,  just,  and  fixed,  and  final, 

And  the  sentence  showeth  clear  before  the  Judge  hath  spoken : 

Now — while  resting  matter  is  at  peace  within  the  tomb, 

The  conscious  spirit  watcheth  in  unspeakable  suspense  ; 

Racked  with  a  fearful  looking  forward,  or  blissfully  feeding  on  the  fore- 
taste, 

Waiting  souls  in  eager  expectation  pass  the  solemn  interval ; 

They  slumber  not  in  death,  but  awaken,  quickened  to  the  terror  of  the 
judgment ; 


OF  DEATH.  197 

They  lie  not  insensate  among  darkness,  but  exult,  looking  to  the  light* 

Idiocy,  brightening  on  the  instant,  when  that  veil  is  torn, 

Is  grateful  that  his  torpor  here  hath  left  him  as  an  innocent  ; 

The  young  child,  stricken  as  he  played,  and  guileless  babes  unborn, 

Freed  from  fetters  of  the  flesh,  burst  into  mind  immediate : 

Madness  judgeth  wisely,  and  the  visions  of  the  lunatic  are  gone, 

And  each  hasteneth  to  praise  the  mercy  that  made  him  irresponsible. 

For  soul  is  one,  though  manifold  in  act,  working  the  machinery  of  brain, 

Reason,  fancy,  conscience,  passion,  are  but  varying  phases  ; 

If,  in  God's  wise  purpose,  the  machine  were  shattered  or  confused, 

Still  is  soul  the  same,  though  it  exhibit  with  a  difference  : 

Therefore,  dissipate  the  brain,  and  set  its  inmate  free, 

Behold,  the  maniacs  and  embryos  stand  in  their  place  intelligent. 

That  solvent  eateth  away  all  dross,  leaving  the  gold  intact : 

Matter  lingereth  in  the  retort,  spirit  hath  flown  to  the  receiver : 

And  lo,  that  recipient  of  the  spirits,  it  is  some  aerial  world, 

An  oasis  midway  on  the  desert  space,  separating  earth  from  heaven, 

A  prison-house  for  essences  incorporate,  a  limbus  vague  and  wild, 

Tartarus  for  evil,  and  Paradise  for  good,  that  intermediate  Hades. 

O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  a  Lawgiver  that  never  altereth. 
Fixing  the  consummating  seal,  whereby  the  deeds  of  life  become  estab- 
lished ; 

O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  a  stern  and  silent  usher, 
Leading  to  the  judgment  for  Eternity,  after  the  trial  scene  of  time ; 
O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  an  husbandman,  that  reapeth  always, 
Out  of  season,  as  in  season,  with  the  sickle  in  his  hand : 
O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  the  shadow  unto  every  substance, 
In  the  bower  as  in  the  battle,  haunting  night  and  day :  '<• 

O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  nurse  of  dreamless  slumbers 
Freshening  the  fevered  flesh  to  a  wakefulness  eternal : 
O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  strange  and  solemn  Alchymist, 
Elaborating  life's  elixir  from  these  clayey  crucibles  : 
O  Death,  what  art  thou  ?  antitype  of  nature's  marvels, 
The  seed  and  dormant  chrysalis  bursting  into  energy  and  glory. 
Thou  calm,  safe  anchorage  for  the  shattered  hulls  of  men,— 
Thou  spot  of  gelid  shade,  after  the  hot-breathed  desert, — 
Thou  silent  waiting-hall,  where  Adam  meeteth  with  his  childre^— 
How  full  of  dread,  how  full  of  hope,  loometh  inevitable  Death : 


198  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Of  dread,  for  all  have  sinned ;  of  hope,  for  One  hath  saved ; 
The  dread  is  drowned  in  joy,  the  hope  is  filled  with  immortality ! 
— Pass  along,  pilgrim  of  life,  go  to  thy  grave  unfearing, 
The  terrors  are  but  shadows  now  that  haunt  the  vale  of  Death. 


OF    IMMORTALITY. 

GIRD  up  thy  mind  to  contemplation,  trembling  inhabitant  of  earth : 
Tenant  of  a  hovel  for  a  day, — thou  art  heir  of  the  universe  for  ever ! 
For,  neither  congealing  of  the  grave,  nor  gulfing  waters  of  the  firmament, 
Nor  expansive  airs  of  heaven,  nor  dissipative  fires  of  Gehenna, 
Nor  rust  of  rest,  nor  wear,  nor  waste,  nor  loss,  nor  chance,  nor  change, 
Shall  avail  to  quench  or  overwhelm  the  spark  of  soul  within  thee  ! 

Thou  art  an  imperishable  leaf  on  the  evergreen  bay-tree  of  Existence ; 

A  word  from  Wisdom's  mouth,  that  cannot  be  unspoken  ; 

A  ray  of  Love's  own  light ;  a  drop  in  Mercy's  sea ; 

A  creature,  marvellous  and  fearful,  begotten  by  the  fiat  of  Omnipotence. 

I,  that  speak  in  weakness,  and  ye,  that  hear  in  charity, 

Shall  not  cease  to  live  and  feel,  though  flesh  must  see  corruption ; 

For  the  prison-gates  of  matter  shall  be  broken,  and  the  shackled  soul  go 

free, 

Free,  for  good  or  ill,  to  satisfy  its  appetence  for  ever : 
For  ever, — dreadful  doom,  to  be  hurried  on  eternally  to  evil,— 
For  ever, — happy  fate,  to  ripen  into  perfectness — for  ever  ! 

And  is  there  a  thought  within  thy  heart,  O  slave  of  sin  and  fear, 
A  black  and  harmful  hope,  that  erring  spirit  dieth  ! 
That  primal  disobedience  hath  ensured  the  death  of  soul, 
And  separate  evil  sealed  it  thine — thy  curse,  Annihilation  ? 
Heed  thou  this ;  there  is  a  Sacrifice ;  the  Maker  is  Redeemer  of  his  crea* 

ture ; 

Freely  unto  each,  universally  to  all,  is  restored  the  privilege  of  essence : 
Whether  unto  grace  or  guilt,  all  must  live  through  Him, 
Lave  in  vital  joy,  or  live  in  dying  woe : 
Deatn  in  Adam,  life  in  Christ ;  the  curse  hung  upon  the  cross : 


OF  IMMORTALITY.  199 

Who  art  thou  that  heedest  of  redemption,  as  narrower  than  the  fall  ? 

All  were  dead, — He  died  for  all ;  that  living,  they  might  love ; 

If  living  souls  withhold  their  love, — still,  He  hath  died  for  them. 

Eve  stole  the  knowledge ;  Christ  gave  the  life : 

Knowledge  and  life  are  the  perquisites  of  soul,  the  privilege  of  man 

Mercy  stepped  between,  and  stayed  the  double  theft ; 

God  gave  ;  ancf  giving,  bought ;  and  buying,  asketh  love : 

And  in  such  asking  rendereth  bliss,  to  all  that  hear  and  answer 

For  love  with  life  is  heaven  ;  and  life  unloving,  hell. 

Creature  of  God,  his  will  is  for  thy  weal,  eternally  progressing  , 

Fear  not  to  trust  a  Maker's  love,  nor  a  Saviour's  ransom : 

He  drank  for  all, — for  thee  and  me, — the  poison  of  our  deeds  ; 

We  shall  not  die,  but  live, — and  of  his  grace,  we  love. 

For  in  the  mysteries  of  Mercy,  the  One  fore-knowing  Spirit 

Outstrippeth  reason's  halting  choice,  and  winneth  men  to  Him : 

Who  shall  sound  the  depths  ?  who  shall  reach  the  heights  ? 

Freedom,  in  the  gyves  of  fate ;  and  sovereignty,  reconciled  with  justice. 

If  then,  as  annihilate  by  sin,  the  soul  was  ever  forfeit, 

Godhead  paid  the  mighty  price,  the  pledge  hath  been  redeemed ;          •  \ ' 

He,  from  the  waters  of  Oblivion  raised  the  drowning  race, 

Lifting  them  even  to  Himself,  the  baseless  Rock  of  Ages. 

None  can  escape  from  Adam's  guilt,  or  second  Adam's  guerdon : 

Sin  and  death  are  thine  ;  thine  also  is  interminable  being : 

Let  it  be  even  as  thou  wilt,  still  are  we  ransomed  from  nonentity, 

The  worlds  of  bliss  and  woe  are  peopled  with  immortals : 

And  ruin  is  thy  blame ;  for  thou,  the  worst,  art  free 

To  take  from  Heaven  the  grace  of  love,  as  the  gift  of  life  : 

Yet  is  not  remedy  thy  praise ;  for  thou,  the  best,  art  bound 

In  self,  and  sin,  and  darkling  sloth,  until  He  break  the  chain : 

None  can  tell,  without  a  struggle,  if  that  chain  be  broken ; 

Strive  to-day, — one  effort  more  may  prove  that  thou  art  free ! 

Here  is  faith  and  prayer,  here  is  the  Grace  and  the  Atonement, 

Here  is  the  creature  feeling  for  its  God,  .and  the  prodigal  returning  to  his 

Father. 

But,  behold,  his  reasonable  children,  standing  in  just  probation, 
With  ears  to  hear,  neglect ;  with  eyes  to  see,  refuse : 
They  will  not  have  the  blessing  with  the  life,  the  blessing  that  enricbeth 

immortality : 


200  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  look  for  pleasures  out  of  God,  for  heaven  in  life  alone : 
So  they  snatch  that  awful  prize,  existence  void  of  love,    ' 
And  in  their  darkening  exile  make  a  needful  hell  of  self. 

Therefore  fear,  thou  sinner,  lest  the  huge  blessing,  Immortality, 

Be  blighted  in  thine  evil  to  a  curse, — it  were  better  he  had  not  been  born  ; 

Therefore  hope,  thou  saint,  for  the  gift  of  immortality  is  free  ; 

Take  and  live,  and  live  in  love  :  fear  not,  thou  art  redeemed  ! 

The  happy  life,  that  height  of  hope,  the  knowledge  of  all  good, 

This  is  the  blessing  on  obedience,  obedience  the  child  of  faith  : 

The  miserable  life,  that  depth  of  all  despair,  the  knowledge  of  all  evil, 

This  is  the  curse  upon  impenitence,  impenitence  that  sprung  of  unbelief. 

God,  from  a  beautiful  necessity,  is  Love  in  all  he  doeth, 

Love,  a  brilliant  fire,  to  gladden  or  consume  : 

The  wicked  work  their  woe  by  looking  upon  love,  and  hating  it : 

The  righteous  find  their  joys  in  yearning  on  its  loveliness  for  ever. 

Who  shall  imagine  Immortality,  or  picture  its  illimitable  prospect  ? 
How  feebly  can  a  faltering  tongue  express  the  vast  idea ! 
F.or  consider  the  primeval  woods  that  bristle  over  broad  Australia, 
And  count  their  autumn  leaves,  millions  multiplied  by  millions  ; 
Thence  look  up  to  a  moonless  sky  from  a  sleeping  isle  of  the  ^Egaean, 
And  add  to  those  leaves  yon  starry  host,  sparkling  on  the  midnight,  num- 
berless ; 

Thence  traverse  an  Arabia,  some  continent  of  eddying  sand, 
Gather  each  grain,  let  none  escape,  add  them  to  the  leaves  and  to  the  stars, 
Afterwards  gaze  upon  the  sea,  the  thousand  leagues  of  an  Atlantic, 
Take  drop  by  drop,  and  add  their  sum  to  the  grains,  and  leaves,  and  stars ; 
The  drops  of  ocean,  the  desert  sands,  the  leaves,  and  stars  innumerable, 
(Albeit,  in  that  multitude  of  multitudes,  each  small  unit  were  an  age,) 
All  might  reckon  for  an  instant,  a  transient  flash  of  Time, 
Compared  with  this  intolerable  blaze,  the  measureless  enduring  of  Eter- 
nity !  & 

O  grandest  gift  of  the  Creator, — O  largess  worthy  of  a  God, — 
Who  shall  grasp  that  thrilling  thought,  life  and  joy  for  ever  ? 
For  the  sun  in  heaven's  heaven  is  Love  that  cannot  change, 
And  the  shining  of  that  sun  is  life,  to  all  beneath  its  beams  : 
Who  shall  arrest  it  in  the  firmament, — or  drag  it  from  its  sphere? 


OF  IMMORTALITY.  201 

Or  bid  its  beauty  smile  no  more,  but  be  extinct  for  ever  ? 
Yea,  where  God  hath  given,  none  shall  take  away, 
Nor  build  up  limits  to  his  love,  nor  bid  his  bounty  cease ; 
Wide,  as  space  is  peopled,  endless  as  the  empire  of  heaven, 
The  river  of  the  water  of  life  floweth  on  in  majesty  for  ever ! 

Why  should  it  seem  a  thing  impossible  to  thee,  O  man  of  many  doubti, 

That  God  shall  wake  the  dead,  and  give  this  mortal  immortality  ? 

Is  it  that  such  riches  are  unsearchable,  the  bounty  too  profuse  ? 

And  yet  what  gift,  to  cease  or  change,  is  worthy  of  the  King  Almighty  ? 

For  remember  the  moment  thou  art  not,  thou  mightest  as  well  not  have 

been ; 
A  millennium  and  an  hour  are  equal  in  flie  gulf  of  that  desolate  abyss, 

annihilation : 

If  Adam  had  existed  till  to-day,  and  to-day  had  perished  utterly, 
What  were  his  gain  in  the  length  of  a  life,  that  hath  passed  away  for 

ever  ? 

No  tribute  of  thanks  can  exhale  from  the  empty  censer  of  nonentity  ; 
The  Giver,  with  his  gift  reclaimed,  is  mulcted  of  all  praise. 

Tell  me,  ye  that  strive  in  vain  to  cramp  and  dwarf  the  soul, 
Wherefore  should  it  cease  to  be,  and  when  shall  essence  die  ? 
It  is, — and  therefore  shall  be, — till  just  obstacle  opposeth : 
Show  no  cause  for  change,  and  reason  leaneth  to  continuance. 
The  body  verily  shall  change ;  this  curious  house  we  live  in 
Never  had  continuing  stay,  but  changeth  every  instant : 
But  the  spiritual  tenant  of  the  house  abideth  in  unalterable  consciousness , 
He  may  fly  to  many  lands,  but  cannot  flee  himself : 
The  soil  wherein  ye  drop  the  seed,  by  suns  or  rains  may  vary : 
But  the  seed  is  the  same ;  and  soul  is  the  seed  ;  and  flesh  but  its  anchor- 
age to  earth. 

The  machine  may  be  broken,  and  rust  corrode  the  springs :  but  can  rust 
feed  on  motion  ? 

Worms  may  batten  on  the  brain :  but  can  worms  gnaw  the  mind  ? 

Dynamics  are,  and  dwell  apart,  though  matter  be  not  made ; 

Spirit  is,  and  can  be  separate,  though  a  body  were  not : 

Power  is  one,  be  it  lever,  screw,  or  wedge ;  but  it  needeth  these  for  illus- 
tration : 


203  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Mind  is  one,  be  it  casual  or  ideal ;  but  it  is  shown  in  these. 

The  creature  is  constructed  individual,  for  trial  of  his  reasonable  will, 

Clay  and  soul  commingled  wisely,  mingled,  not  confused  : 

As  power  is  not  in  the  spring,  till  somewhat  give  it  action, 

So  until  spirit  be  infused,  the  organism  lieth  inergetic. 

Or  shalt  thou  say  that  mind  is  the  delicate  offspring  of  matter, 

The  bright  consummate  flower  that  must  perish  with  its  leaf? 

Go  to :  doth  weight  breed  lightness  ?  is  freedom  the  atmosphere  of  prisons  f 

When  did  the  body  elevate,  expand,  and  bud  the  mind  ? 

Lo,  a  red-hot  cinder  flung  from  the  furnaces  of  ./Etna, — 

There  is  fire  in  that  ash  ;  but  did  the  pumice  make  it  ? 

Nay,  cold  clod,  never  canst  thou  generate  a  flame, 

Nay,  most  exquisite  machinery,  nevermore  elaborate  a  mind ; 

Rather  do  ye  battle  and  contend,  opposite  the  one  to  the  other ; 

Till  God  shall  stop  the  strife,  and  call  the  body  colleague. 

Garment  of  flesh,  and  art  thou  then  a  vest,  so  tinged  with  subtle  poison, 
(Maddening  tunic  of  the  centaur,)  as  to  kill  the  soul  ? 
Not  so  :  fruit  of  disobedience,  rot  in  dissolution,  as  thou  must, — 
The  seed  is  in  the  core,  its  germ  is  safe,  and  life  is  in  that  germ : 
Moreover,  Marah  shall  be  sweetened ;  and  a  Good  Physician 
Yet  shall  heal  those  gangrene  wounds,  the  spotted  plague  of  sin : 
He,  through  worldly  trials,  and  the  separative  cleansing  of  the  grave, 
Shall  change  its  corruptible  to  glory,  and  wash  that  garment  white. 

Still,  is  the  whisper  in  thy  heart,  that  oftenest  the  bed  of  death 

Seemeth  but  a  sluggish  ebb,  of  sinking  soul  and  body  ? 

Mind  dwelling  long-time  sensual  in  the  chambers  of  the  flesh, 

May  slumber  on  in  conscious  sloth,  and  wilfully  be  dulled : 

But  is  it  therefore  nigh  to  dissolution,  even  as  the  body  of  this  death  ? 

Ask  the  stricken  conscience,  gasping  out  its  terrors  ; 

Ask  the  dying  miser,  loth  to  leave  his  gold ; 

Ask  the  widowed  poor,  confiding  her  fatherless  to  strangers ; 

Ask  the  martyr-maid,  a  broken  reed  so  strong, 

That  weak  and  tortured  frame,  with  triumph  on  its  brow  ! — 

O  thou  gainsayer,  the  finger  of  disease  may  seem  to  reach  the  soul, 

But  it  is  a  spiritual  touch,  sympathy  with  that  which  aileth  : 

Pain  or  fear  may  dislocate  and  shatter  this  delicate  machinery  of  nerves) 


OF  IMMORTALITY.  203 

But  madness  proveth  mind :  the  fault  is  in  the  engine,  not  the  impetus : 

Dissipate  the  mists  of  matter,  lo,  the  soul  is  clear : 

Timour's  cage  bowed  it  in  the  dust,  but  now  it  goeth  forth  a  freeman. 

Yet  more,  there  is  reason  in  moralities,  that  the  soul  must  live ; 

If  God  be  king  in  heaven,  or  have  care  for  earth, 

Can  wickedness  have  triumphed  with  impunity,  or  virtue  toiled  unseen  ? 

Shall  cruelty  torture  unavenged,  and  the  innocent  complain  unheard  ? 

Is  there  "no  recompense  for  woe, — must  there  be  no  other  world  for 

justice, — 

No  hope  in  setting  suns  of  good,  nor  terror  for  the  evil  at  its  zenith  ? 
How  shall  ye  make  answer  unto  this,  a  just  God  prospering  iniquity, 
Wisdom  encouraging  the  foolish,  and  Goodness  abetting  the  depraved  ? 

Yet  again  ;  mine  erring  brother,  pardon  this  abundance  of  my  speech, 

Yield  me  thy  candour  and  thy  charity,  listening  with  a  welcome  : 

For,  even  now,  a  thousand  thoughts  are  trooping  to  my  theme ; 

O  mighty  theme,  O  feeble  thoughts  !     Alas,  who  is  sufficient  ? 

Judge  not  so  high  a  cause  by  these  poor  words  alone, 

For  lo,  the  advocate  hath  little  skill :  pardon,  and  pass  on  : 

Certify  thyself  with  surer  proofs  ;  fledge  thin^own  mind  for  flight ; 

Think,  and  pray ;  those  better  proofs  shall  follow  on  with  holy  aspiration. 

Yet,  in  my  humbler  grade  to  help  thy  weal  and  comfort, 

Thy  weal  for  this  and  higher  worlds,  and  comfort  in  thy  sickness, 

Suffer  the  multitude  of  fancies,  walking  with  me  still  in  love ; 

But  tread  in  fear,  it  is  holy  ground, — remember  Immortality ! 

VVilt  thou  argue  from  infirmities,  thine  abject  evil  state,  • 

As  how  should  stricken  wretched  man  indeed  exist  for  ever : 

The  brutal  and  besotted,  the  savage  and  the  slave,  the  sucking  infant  and 
the  idiot, 

The  mass  of  mean  and  common  minds,  and  all  to  be  immortal  ? 

Consider  every  beginning,  how  small  it  is  and  feeble : 

Ganges,  and  the  rolling  Mississippi,  sprung  of  brooks  among  the  moun- 
tains ; 

That  yew-tree  of  a  thousand  years  was  once  a  little  seed  ; 

And  Nero's  marble  Rome,  a  shepherd's  mud-built  hovel : 

A  speck  is  on  the  tropic  sky,  aud  it  groweth  to  the  terrible  tornado ; 

An  apple,  all  too  fair  to  see,  destroyed  a  world  of  souls  • 


204  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

A  tender  babe  is  born, — it  is  Attila,  scourge  of  the  nations  ! 
A  seeming  malefactor  dieth, — it  is  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  men ! 

And  hive  not  in  thy  thoughts  the  vain  and  wordy  notion, 
Tliat  nothing  which  was  born  in  time,  can  tire  out  the  footsteps  of  Infinity. 
Reckon  up  a  sum  in  numbers  ;  where  shall  progression  stop  ? 
The  starting-post  is  definite  and  fixed,  but  what  is  the  goal  of  numeration  ? 
So  begin  upon  a  moment,  and  when  shall  being  end  ? 
Souls  emanate  from  God,  to  travel  with  him  equally  for  ever. 
Moreover,  thou  that  objectest  the  unenterable  circle  of  eternity, 
That  none  but  He  from  everlasting  can  endure,  as  to  a  future  everlasting, 
Consider,  may  it  be  impossible  that  creatures  were  counted  in  their  Maker, 
And  so,  that  the  confines  of  eternity  are  filled  by  God  alone  ? 
Trust  not  thy  soul  upon  a  fancy :  who  would  freight  a  bubble  with  a  dia- 
mond, 
And  launch  that  priceless  gem  on  the  boiling  rapids  of  a  cataract  ? 

If  then  we  perish  not  at  death,  but  walk  in  spirit  through  the  darkness, 

Waiting  for  a  mansion  incorruptible,  whereof  this  body  is  the  seed, 

Tell  me,  when  shall  be  the  period  ?  time  and  its  ordeals  are  done  ; 

The  storms  are  passed,  the  4tfght  is  at  an  end,  behold  the  Sabbath  morning. 

Is  Death  to  be  conqueror  again,  and  claim  once  more  the  victory, — 

Can  the  enemy's  corpse  awaken  into  life,  and  bruise  the  Champion's  head? 

Evil,  terrible  ensample,  that  foil  to  the  attributes  of  Good, 

Is  banished  to  its  own  black  world,  weeded  out  of  earth  and  heaven : 

Shall  that  great  gulf  be  passed,  and  sin  be  sown  again  ? — 

We  know  but  this,  the  book  of  truth  proclaimeth  gladly,  Never  ! 

There  remaineth  the  will  of  our  God :  when  he  rcpenteth  of  his  creature, 
Made  by  self-suggested  mercy,  ransomed  by  self-sacrificing  justice, — * 
When   Truth,  that   swore  unto   his   neighbour,  disappointeth   him,   and 

cleaveth  to  a  lie, — 
When  the  counsels  of  Wisdom  are  confounded,  and  Love  warreth  with 

itself, 
When  the  Unchangeable  is  changed,  and  the  arm  of  Omnipotence  is 

broken, 
Then, — thy  quenchless  soul  shall  have  reached  the  goal  of  its  existence. 

But  it  seemeth  to  thy  notions  of  the  merciful  and  just,  a  false  and  fearful 
thing, 


OF  IMMORTALITY.  265 

To  lay  such  a  burden  upon  time,  that  eternity  be  built  on  its  foundation : 
As  if  so  casual  good  or  ill  should  colour  all  the  future, 
And  the  vanity  of  accident,  or  sternness  of  necessity,  save  or  wreck  a  soul. 
Were  it  casual,  vain,  or  stern,  this  might  pass  for  truth : 
.But  all  things  are  marshalled  by  Design,  and  carefully  tended  by  Benevo- 
lence. 

O  man,  thy  Judge  is  righteous, — noting,  remembering,  and  weighing ; 
Want,  ignorance,  diversities  of  state,  are  cast  into  the  balance  of  advantage : 
The  poisonous  example  of  a  parent  asketh  for  allowance  in  a  child ; 
Care,  diseases,  toils,  and  frailties, — all  things  are  considered. 
And  again,  a  mysterious  Omniscience  knoweth  the  spirits  that  are  his, 
While  the  delicate  tissues  of  Event  are  woven  by  the  fingers  of  Ubiquity. 
Should  Providence  be  taken  by  surprise  from  the  possible  impinging  of  an 

accident, 

One  fortuitous  grain  might  dislocate  the  banded  universe : 
The  merest  seeming  trifle  is  ordered  as  the  morning  light ; 
And  he  that  rideth  on  the  hurricane,  is  pilot  of  the  bubble  on  the  breaker. 

Once  more,  consider  Matter, — how  small  a  thing  is  father  to  the  greatest : 

Thou  that  lightly  hast  regarded  the  results  of  so  called  accident. 

A  blade  of  grass  took  fire  in  the  sun, — and  the  prairies  are  burnt,  to  the 

horizon : 

A   grain  of  sand  may  blind  the  eye,  and  madden  the  brain  to  murder : 
A  careful  fly  deposited  its  egg  hi  the  swelling  bud  of  an  acorn, — 
The  sapling  grew, — cankrous  and  gnarled, — it  is  yonder  hollow  oak  : 
A  child  touched  a  spring,  and  the  spring  closed  a  valve,  and  the  labouring 

engine  burst, — 

A  thousand  lives  were  in  that  ship, — wrecked  by  an  infant's  finger ! 
Shall  nature  preach  in  vain  ? — thy  casualty,  guided  in  its  orbit, 
Though  less  than  a  mote  upon  the  sunbeam,  saileth  in  a  fleet  of  worlds ; 
That  trivial  cause,  watered  and  observed  of  the  Husbandman  day  by  day, 
In  calm  undeviating  strength  doth  work  its  large  effect. 
Thus,  in  the  pettiness  of  life  note  thou  seeds  of  grandeur, 
And  watch  the  hour-glass  of  Tune  with  the  eyes,  of  an  heir  of  Immortality. 

There  still  be  clouds  of  witnesses, — if  thou  art  not  weary  of  my  speech^— 
Flocks  of  thoughts  adding  lustre  to  the  light,  and  pointing  on  to  Life.  ' 
For  reflect  how  Truth  and  Goodness,  well  and  wisely  put, 
Commend  themselves  to  every  mind  with  wondrous  intuition : 


£06  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

What  is  this  ?  the  recognition  of  a  standard,  unwritten,  natural,  uniform ', 

Telling  of  one  common  source,  the  root  of  Good  and  True. 

And  if  thus  present  soul  can  trace  descent  from  Deity, 

Being,  as  it  standeth,  individual,  a  separate  reasonable  thing, 

What  should  hinder  that  its  hope  may  not  trace  gladly  forward, 

And,  in  astounding  parallel,  like  Enoch,  walk  with  God  ? 

Yea,  the  genealogy,  of  soul,  that  vivifying  breath  of  a  Creator, 

Breatji,  no  transient  air,  but  essence,  energy,  and  reason, 

Is  looming  on  the  past,  and  shadowing  the  future,  sublimely  as  Mel» 

chisedek  of  old, 
Having  not  beginning,  nor  end  of  days,  but  present  in  the  majesty  of  Peace ! 

O  false  scholar,  credulous  in  vanities,  and  only  skeptical  of  truth, 

Wherefore  toil  to  cheat  thy  soul  of  its  birthright,  Immortality  ? 

Is  it  for  thy  guilt  ?  He  pardoneth  :  is  it  for  thy  frailty  ?  He  will  help : 

Though  thou  fearest,  He  is  Love ;  and  Mercy  shall  be  deeper  than  Despaii ; 

Even  for  thy  full-blown  pride,  is  it  much  to  be  receiver  of  a  God  ? 

And  lo,  thy  rights,  He  made  thee ;  thy  claims,  He  hath  redeemed. 

Hath  the  fair  aspect  of  affection  no  beauty  that  thou  shouldst  desire  it  ? 

And  are  those  sorrows  nothing  to  thee  that  passest  by  ? 

For  it  is  a  fact,  immutable,  that  God  hath  dwelt  in  Man  ? 

With  gentle,  generous  love  ennobling  while  He  bought  us. 

What,  though  thou  art  false,  ignorant,  weak,  and  daring, — 

Can  the  sun  be  quenched  in  heaven— ^or  only  Belisarius  be  blind  ? 

But,  even  stooping  to  thy  folly,  grant  all  these  hopes  are  vain ; 

Stultify  reason,  wrestle  against  conscience,  and  wither  up  the  heart, 

Where  is  thy  vast  advantage  ? — I  have  all  that  thou  hast, 

The  buoyancy  of  life  as  strong,  and  term  of  days  no  shorter ; 

My  cup  is  full  with  gladness, — my  griefs  are  not  more  galling : 

And  thus,  we  walk  together,  even  to  the  gates  of  death : 

There,  (if  not  also  on  my  journey,  blessing  every  step, 

Gladdening  with  light,  and  quickening  with  love,  and  killing  all  my  cares,1) 

There, — while  thou  art  quailing,  or  sullenly  expecting  to  be  nothing, — 

There, — is  found  my  gain, — I  triumph,  where  thou  tremblest. 

Grant  all  my  solace  is  a  lie,  yet  it  is  a  fountain  of  delight, 

A  spice  in  every  pleasure,  and  a  balm  for  every  pain : 

O  precious  wise  delusion,  scattering  both  misery  and  sin, — 

O  vile  and  silly  truth,  depraving  wb;1e  it  curseth ! 


OF  IMMORTALITY.  2V>7 

Darklirg  child  of  knowledge,  commune  with  Socrates  and  Cicero : 

They  had  no  prejudice  of  birth,  no  dull  parental  warpings ; 

See,  those  lustrous  minds  anticipate  the  dawning  day, — 

Whilst  thou,  poor  mole,  art  burrowing  back  to  darkness  from  the  light. 

I  will  not  urge  a  revelation,  mercies,  miracles,  and  martyrs, 

But,  after  twice  a  thousand  years,  go  learn  thou  of  the  pagan  ; 

It  were  happier  and  wiser  even  among  fools,  to  cling  to  the  shadow  of  a 

hope, 

Than,  in  the  company  of  sages,  to  win  the  substance  of  despair : 
But  here,  the  sages  hope  ; — despair  is  with  the  fools, 
The  base  bad  hearts,  the  stolid  heads,  the  sensual,  and  the  selfish. 

And  wilt  thou,  sorry  scorner,  mock  the  phrase,  despair  ? 

Despair  for  those  who  die  and  live, — for  me,  I  live  and  die ; 

What  have  I  to  do  with  dread  ?  my  taper  must  go  out  ? — 

I  nurse  no  silly  hopes,  and  therefore  feel  no  fears : 

I  am  hastening  to  an  End. — O  false  and  feeble  answer : 

For  hope  is  in  thee  still,  and  fear, — a  racking  deep  anxiety 

Erring  brother,  listen  ;  and  take  thine  answer  from  the  ancients : 

Consider  every  end,  that  it  is  but  the  end  of  a  beginning. 

All  things  work  in  circles :  weariness  induceth  unto  rest, 

Rest  invigorateth  labour,  and  labour  causeth  weariness : 

War  produceth  peace,  and  peace  is  wanton  unto  war ; 

Light  dieth  into  darkness,  and  night  dawneth  into  day ; 

The  rotting  jungle  reeds  scatter  fertility  around  ; 

The  buffalo's  dead  carcass  hath  quickened  life  in  millions ; 

The  end  of  toil  is  gain,  the  end  of  gain  is  pleasure, 

Pleasure  tendeth  unto  waste,  and  waste  commandeth  toil. 

So,  is -death  an  end, — but  it  breedeth  an*infmite  beginning; 

Limits  are  for  time,  and  death  killed  time  ;  Eternity's  beginning  is  for  ever. 

Ambition,  hath  it  any  goal  indeed  ?  is  not  all  fruition,  disappointment  ? 

A  step  upon  the  ladder,  and  another,  and  another, — we  start  from  every  end: 

Look  to  the  eras  of  mortality  ;  babe,  student,  man, 

The  husband,  the  father,  the  deathbead  of  a  saint, — and  is  it  then  an  end  f 

That  common  climax,  Death,  shall  it  lead  to  nothing  ? 

How  strong  a  root  of  causes,  flowering  a  consequence  of  vapour : 

That  solid  chain  of  facts,  is  it  snapped  for  ever  ? 

How  stout  a  show  of  figures,  weakly  summing  to  nonentity. 


208  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Or  haply,  Death,  in  the  doublings  of  thy  thought,  shall  seem  continuous 

ending : 
A  dun  eternal  slumber,  not  an  end  abrupt. 

0  most  futile  chrysalis,  wherefore  dost  thou  sleep  ? 

Dreamless,  unconscious,  never  to  awake, — what  object  in  such  slumber  t 
If  thou  art  still  to  live,  it  may  as  well  be  wakefully  as  sleeping : 
How  grovelling  must  that  spirit  be,  to  need  eternal  sleep ; 
Or  was  indeed  the  toil  of  life  so  heavy  and  so  long, 
That  nevermore  can  rest  refresh  thine  overburdened  soul  ? 
Sleep  is  a  recreance  to  body,  but  when  was  mind  asleep  ? 
Even  in  a  swoon  it  dreameth,  though  all  be  forgotten  afterwards : 
The  muscles  seek  relaxing,  and  the  irritable  nerves  ask  peace : 
But  life  is  a  constant  force,  spirit  an  unquietable  impetus ; 
The  eye  may  wear  out  as  a  telescope,  and  the  brain  work  slow  as  a  ma- 
chine, 
But  soul,  unwearied,  and  for  ever,  is  capable  of  effort  unimpaired. 

1  live,  move  am  conscious  :  what  shall  bar  my  being  ? 
Where  is  the  rude  hand,  to  rend  this  tissue  of  existence  ? 
Not  thine,  shadowy  Death,  what  art  thou  but  a  phantom  ? 
Not  thine,  foul  Corruption,  what  art  thou  but  a  fear  ? 
For  death  is  merely  absent  life,  as  darkness  absent  light : 

Not  even  a  suspension,  for  the  life  hath  sailed  away,  steering  gladly  some- 
where. 

And  corruption,  closely  noted,  is  but  a  dissolving  of  the  parts, 

The  parts  remain,  and  nothing  lost,  to  build  a  better  whole. 

Moreover,  mind  is  unity,  however  versatile  and  rapid ; 

Thou  canst  not  entertain  two  coincident  ideas,  although  they  quickly  fol- 
low : 

And  Unity  hath  no  parts,  so  tiiat  there  is  nothing  to  dissolve  ; 

And  element  is  still  unchanged  in  every  searching  solvent. 

Who  then  shall  bid  me  be  annulled, — He  that  gave  me  being  ? 

Amen,  if  God  so  will  ;  I  know  that  will  is  love  : 

But  love  hath  promised  life,  and  therefore  I  shall  live ; 

So  long  as  He  is  God,  I  shall  be  his  Creature ! 

And  here,  shrewd  reasoner,  so  eager  to  prove  that  thou  must  perish, 
I  note  a  sneer  upon  thy  lip,  and  ridicule  is  haply  on  thy  tongue : 
How,  said  he, — creature  of  a  God,  and  are  not  all  his  creatures, — 


OF  IMMORTALITY.  209 

The  lion,  and  the  gnat, — yea,  the  mushroom,  and  the  crystal, — have  all 

these  a  soul  ? 

Thy  fancies  tend  to  prove  too  much,  and  overshoot  the  mark : 
If  I  die  not  with  brutes,  then  brutes  must  live  with  me  ? — 
I  dare  not  tell  thee  that  they  will,  for  the  word  is  not  in  my  commission : 
But  of  the  twain  it  is  the  likelier  ;  continuance  is  the  chance : 
Men,  dying  in  their  sins,  are  likened  unto  beasts  that  perish : 
They  are  dark,  animal,  insensate,  but  have  they  not  a  lurking  soul  ? 
The  spirit  of  a  man  goeth  upward,  reasonable,  apprehending  God  ; 
The  spirit  of  a  beast  goeth  downward,  sensual,  doting  on  the  creature : 
Who  told  thee  they  die  at  dissolution  ?  boldly  think  it  out, — 
The  multitude  of  flies,  and  the  multitude  of  herbs,  the  world  with  all  its  be- 
ings: 
Is  Infinity  too  narrow,  Omnipotence  too  weak,  and  Love  so  anxious  to  de» 

troy? 

Doth  Wisdom  change  its  plan,  and  a  Maker  cancel  his  created  ? 
God's  will  may  compass  all  things,  to  fashion  and  to  nullify  at  pleasure  : 
Yet  are  there  many  thoughts  of  hope,  that  all  which  are  shall  live. 
True,  there  is  no  conscience  in  the  brute,  beyond  some  educated  habit, 
They  lay  them  down  without  a  fear,  and  wake  without  a  hope : 
Hunger  and  pain  is  of  the  animal ;  but  when  did  they  reckon  or  compare  ? 
They  live,  idealess,  in  instinct ;  and  while  they  breathe  they  gain : 
The  master  is  an  idol  to  his  dog,  who  cannot  rise  beyond  him ; 
And  void  of  capability  for  God,  there  would  seem  small  cause  for  an  in- 
finity. 

Therefore,  caviller,  my  poor  thoughts  dare  not  grant  they  live ; 
But  is  it  not  a  great  thing  to  assume  their  annihilation — and  thine  own  ? 
Would  it  be  much  if  a  speck  on  space,  this  globe  with  all  its  millions, 
Verily,  after  its  pollution,  were  suffered  to  exist  in  purity  1 
Or  much,  if  guiltless  creatures,  that  were  cruelly  entreated  upon  earth, 
Found  some  commensurate  reward  in  lower  joys  hereafter  ? 
Or  much,  if  a  Creator,  prodigal  of  life,  and  filled  with  the  profundity  of 

love, 
Rejoice  in  all  creatures  of  his  skill,  and  lead  them  to  perfection  in  their 

kind? 

O  man,  there  are  many  marvels ;  yet  life  is  more  a  mystery  than  death : 
For  death  may  be  some  stagnant  life, — but  life  is  present  God  ! 

Many  are  the  lurking  holes  of  evil ;  who  shall  search  them  out? 


210  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Who  so  skilled  to  cut  away  the  cancer  with  its  fibres  ? 

For  wily  minds  with  sinuous  ease  escape  from  lie  to  lie ; 

And  cowards  driven  from  the  trench  steal  back  to  hide  again. 

Vain  were  the  battle,  if  a  warrior,  having  slain  his  foes, 

Shall  turn  and  find  them  vital  still,  unharmed,  yea  unashamed : 

For  Error,  dark  magician,  daily  cast  out  killed, 

Quickeneth  animate  anew  beneath  the  midnight  moon : 

Once  and  again,  once  and  again,  hath  reaspn  answered  wisely ; 

But  not  the  less  with  brazen  front  doth  folly  urge  her  questions. 

It  were  but  unprofitable  toil,  a  stand-up  fight  with  unbelief : 

When  was  there  candour  in  a  caviller,  and  who  can  satisfy  the  faithless  T 

Too  long,  O  truant  from  the  fold,  have  I  tracked  thy  devious  paths  : 

Too  long,  treacherous  deserter,  fought  thee  as  a  noble  foeman : 

Haply,  my  small  art,  and  an  arm  too  weakly  for  its  weapon, 

Hath  failed  to  pierce  thine  iron  coat,  and  reach  thy  stricken  soul : 

Haply,  the  fervour  of  my  speech,  and  too  patient  sifting  of  thy  fancies, 

Shall  tend  to  make  thee  prize  them  more,  as  worthier  and  wiser : 

Go  to :  be  mine  the  gain  :  we  measure  swords  no  more  :        '  •  '•  • .' 

Go, — and  a  word  go  with  thee, — Man,  thou  ART  Immortal ! 

Child  of  light,  and  student  in  the  truth,  too  long  have  I  forgotten  thee : 
Lo,  after  parley  with  an  alien,  let  me  hold  sweet  converse  with  a  brother. 
Glorious  hopes,  and  ineffable  imaginings,  crowd  our  holy  theme, 
Fear  hath  been  slaughtered  on  the  portal,  and  Doubt  driven  back  to 

darkness : 

For  Christ  hath  died,  and  we  in  Him ;  by  faith  His  all  is  ours, — 
Cross  and  crown,  and  love,  and  life  ;  and  we  shall  reign  in  Him ! 
Yea,  there  is  a  fitness  and  a  beauty  in  ascribing  immortality  to  mind, 
That  its  energies  and  lofty  aspirations  may  have  scope  for  indefinite  ex- 
pansion. 
To  learn  all   things  is  privilege  of  reason,  and  that  with  a  growing 

capability, 

But  in  this  age  of  toil  and  time  we  scarce  attain  to  alphabets : 
How  hardly  in  the  midst  of  our  hurry,  and  jostled  by  the  cares  of  life, 
Shall  a  man  turn  and  stop  to  consider  mighty  secrets ; 
With  barely  hours,  and  barely  powers,  to  fill  up  daily  duties, 
How  small  the  glimpse  of  knowledge  his  wondering  eye  can  catch. 
And  knowledge  is  a  noting  of  the  order  wherein  God's  attributes  evolve, 
Therefore  worthy  of  the  creature,  worthy  of  an  angel's  seeking  ; 


OF  IMMORTALITY.     '  SH 

Vea,  and  human  knowledge,  meagre  though  the  harvest, 

Hath  its  roots,  both  deep  and  strong ;  but  the  plants  are  exotic  to  the  climate ; 

All  we  seem  to  know  demand  a  longer  learning, 

History,  and  science,  and  prophecy,  and  art,  are  workings  all  of  God : 

And  there  are  galaxies  of  globes,  millions  of  unimagined  beings, 

Other  senses,  wondrous  sounds,  and  thoughts  of  thrilling  fire, 

Powers  of  strange  might,  quickening  unknown  elements, 

And  attributes  and  energies  of  God.  wliitfh  man  may  never  guess. 

Not  in  vain,  O  brother,  hath  soul  the  spurs  of  enterprise,        . 

Nor  aimlessly  panteth  for  adventure,  waiting  at  the  cave  of  mystery : 

Not  in  vain  the  cup  of  curiosity,  sweet  and  richly  spiced, 

Is  ruby  to  the  sight,  and  ambrosia  to  the  taste,  and  redolent  with  all 

frafance :  * 

Thou  shalt  u  ^nk,  and  deeply,  filling  the  mind  with  marvels ; 
Thou  shalt  wau.h  no  more,  lingering,  disappointed  of  thy  hope : 
Thou  shalt  roam  where  road  is  none,  a  traveller  untrammelled, 
Speeding  at  a  wish,  emancipate,  to  where  the  stars  are  suns ! 

Count,  count  your  hopes,  heirs  of  immortality  and  love ; 

And  hear  my  kindred  faith,  and  turn  again  to  bless  me. 

For  lo,  my  trust  is  strong  to  dwell  in  many  worlds, 

And  cull  of  many  brethren  there,  sweet  knowledge  ever  new : 

I  yearn  for  realms  where  fancy  shall  be  filled,  and  the  ecstasies  of  freedom 

shall  be  felt, 

And  the  soul  reign  gloriously,  risen  to  its  royal  destinies  : 
I  look  to  recognize  again,  through  the  beautiful  mask  of  their  perfection, 
The  dear  familiar  faces  I  have  somewhile  loved  on  earth : 
I  long  to  talk  with  grateful  tongue  of  storms  and  perils  past, 
And  praise  the  mighty  Pilot  that  hath  steered  us  through  the  rapids : 
He  shall  be  the  focus  of  it  all,  the  very  heart  of  gladness, — 
My  aoul  is  athirst  for  God,  the  God  who  dwelt  in  Man  ! 
Prophet,  priest,  and  king,  the  sacrifice,  the  substitute,  the  Saviour, 
Rapture  of  the  blessed  in  the  hunted  one  of  earth,  the  pardoner  in  tho 

victim: 

How  many  centuries  of  joy  concentrate  hi  that  theme ; 
How  often  a  Methuselah  might  count  his  thousand  years,  and  leave  it 

unexhausted. 
And  lo,  the  heavenly  .Jerusalem,  with  all  its  gates  one  pearl, 


212  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

That  pearl  of  countless  price,  the  door  by 'which  we  entered,— 

Come,  tread  the  golden  streets,  and  join  that  glorious  throng, 

The  happy  ones  of  heaven  and  earth,  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand : 

Hark,  they  sing  that  song, — and  cast  their  crowns  before  Him ; 

Their  souls  alight  with  Love, — Glory,  and  Praise,  and  Immortality  ! 

Veil  thine  eyes :  no  son  of  time  may  see  that  holy  vision, 

And  even  the  seraph  at  thy  side  hath  covered  his  face  with  wings. 

Doth  he  not  speak  parables '? — each  one  goeth  on  his  way  : 

Ye  that  hear,  and  I  that  counsel,  go  on  our  ways  forgetful. 

For  the  terrible  realities  whereto  we  tend,  are  hidden  from  our  eyes, — 

We  know  but  heed  them  not,  and  walk  as  if  the  temporal  were  all  things. 

Vanities  buzzing  on  the  ear,  fill  its  drowsy  chambers, 

Slow  to  dread  those  coming  fears,  the  thunder  and  the  trumpet ; 

Motes  streaming  on  the  sight,  dim  our  purblind  eyes, 

Dark  to  see  the  ponderous  orb  of  nearing  Immortality  : 

Hemmed  in  by  hostile  foes,  the  trifler  is  busied  on  an  epigram ;  ('*_) 

The  dull  ox,  driven  to  slaughter,  careth  but  for  pasture  by  the  way. 

Alas,  that  the  precious  things  of  truth,  and  the  everlasting  hills, 

The  mighty  hopes  we  spake  of,  and  the  consciousness  we  feel, — 

Alas,  that  all  the  future,  and  its  adamantine  facts, 

Clouded  by  the  present  with  intoxicating  fumes, — 

Should  seem  even  to  us,  the  great  expectant  heirs, 

To  us,  the  responsible  and  free,  fearful  sons  of  reason, 

Only  as  a  lovely  song,  sweet  sounds  of  solemn  music, 

A  pleasant  voice,  and  nothing  more, — doth  he  not  speak  parables  ? 

Look  to  thy  soul,  O  man,  for  none  can  be  surety  for  his  brother :  • 
Behold,  for  heaven— or  for  hell, — thon  canst  not  escape  from  Immortality  ! 


OF  IDEAS. 

MiND  is  like  a  volatile  essence,  flitting  hither  and  thither, 

A  solitary  sentinel  of  the  fortress  body,  to  show  himself  every  where  by 

turns: 
Mind  is  indivisible  and  instant,  with  neither  parts  nor  organs, 


OF  IDEAS.  213 

That  it  doeth,  it  doth  quickly,  but  the  whole  mind  doth  it : 

An  active,  versatile  agent,  untiring  in  the  principle  of  energy, 

Nor  space,  nor  time,  nor  rest,  nor  toil,  can  affect  the  tenant  of  the  brain ; 

His  dwelling  may  verily  be  shattered,  and  the  furniture  thereof  be  dis 

arranged, 

But  the  particle  of  Deity  in  man  slumbereth  not,  neither  can  be  wearied . 
However  swift  to  change,  even  as  the  field  of  a  kaleidoscope, 
It  taketh  in  but  one  idea  at  once,  moulded  for  the  moment  to  its  likeness 
Mind  is  as  the  quicksilver,  which,  poured  from  vessel  to  vessel, 
Instantly  seizeth  on  a  shape,  and  as  instantly  again  discardeth  it ; 
For  it  is  an  apprehensive  power,  closing  on  the  properties  of  Matter, 
Expanding  to  enwrap  a  world,  collapsing  to  prison  up  an  atom : 
As,  by  night,  thine  irritable  eyes  may  have  seen  strange  changing  figures, 
Now  a  wheel,  now  suddenly  a  point,  a  line,  a  curve,  a  zigzag, 
A  maze  ever  altering,  as  the  dance  of  gnats  upon  a  sunbeam, 
JSwift,  intricate,  neither  to  be  prophesied,  nor  to  be  remembered  in  suc- 
cession, 

So,  the  mind  of  a  man,  single,  and  perpetually  moving, 
Flickering  about  from  thought  to  thought,  changed  with  each  idea, 
For  the  passing  second  metamoq^hosed  to  the  image  of  that  within  its  ken. 
And  throwing  its  immediate  perceptions  into  each  cause  of  contemplation. 
It  shall  regard  a  tree ;  and  unconsciously,  in  separate  review, 
Embrace  its  colour,  shape,  and  use,  wThole  and  individual  conceptions; 
It  shall  read  or  hear  of  crime,  and  cast  itself  into  the  commission ; 
It  shall  note  a  generous  deed,  and  glow  for  a  moment  as  the  doer ; 
It  shall  imagine  pride  or  pleasure,  treading  on  the  edges  of  temptation ; 
Or  heed  of  God  and  of  his  Christ,  and  grow  transformed  to  glory. 

Wherefore,  it  is  wise  and  well  to  guide  the  mind  aright, 

That  its  aptness  may  be  sensitive  to  good,  and  shrink  .with  antipathy  from 

evil: 

For  use  will  mould  and  mark  it,  or  non-usage  dull  and  blunt  it  ;— 
So  to  talk  of  spirit  by  analogy  with  substance ; 
And  analogy  is  a  truer  guide,  than  many  teachers  tell  of : 
Similitudes  are  scattered  round,  to  help  us,  not  to  hurt  us ; 
Moses,  in  his  every  type,  and  the  Greater  than  a  Moses,  in  his  parables, 
Preach  in  terms  that  all  may  learn,  the  philosophic  lessons  of  analogy ; 
And  here,  in  a  topic  immaterial,  the  likeness  of  analogy  is  just ; 
By  habits,  knit  tie  nerves  of  mind,  and  train  the  gladiator  shrewdly : 


314  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

For  thought  shall  strengthen  thinking,  and  imagery  speed  imagiwnlo« 
Until  thy  spiritual  inmate  shall  have  swelled  to  the  giant  of  Otranto, 

Nevertheless,  heed  well,  that  this  Athlete,  growing  in  thy  brain, 

Be  a  wholesome  Genius,  not  a  cursed  Afrite : 

And  see  thou  discipline  his  strength,  and  point  his  aim  discreetly ; 

Feed  him  on  humility  ami  holy  things,  weaned  from  covetous  desires ; 

Hour  by  hour,  and  day  by  day,  ply  him  with  ideas  of  excellence, 

Dragging  forth  the  evil  but  to  loathe,  as  a  Spartan's  drunken  Helot : 

And  win,  by  gradual  allurements,  the  still  expanding  soul, 

To  rise  from  a  contemplated  universe,  even  to  the  Hand  that  made  it. 

A  common  mind  perceiveth  not  beyond  his  eyes  and  ears : 

The  palings  of  the  park  of  sense  enthral  this  captured  roebuck : 

And  still,  though  fettered  in  the  flesh,  he  doth  not  feel  his  chains, 

Externals  are  the  world  to  him,  and  circumstance  his  atmosphere. 

Therefore,  tangible  pleasures  are  enough  for  the  animal-man ; 

He  is  swift  to  speak  and  slow  to  think,  dreading  his  own  dim  conscience  j 

And  solitude  is  terrible,  and  exile  worse  than  death, 

He  cannot  dwell  apart,  nor  breathe  at  a  distance  from  the  crowd  ; 

But  minds  of  nobler  stamp,  and  chiefest  the  mint-marked  of  heaven, 

Walk  independent  by  themselves,  freely  manumitted  of  externals : 

They  carry  viands  with  them,  and  need  no  refreshment  by  the  way, 

Nor  drink  of  other  wells  than  their  own  inner  fountain. 

Strange  shall  it  seem  how  little  such  a  man  will  lean  upon  the  accidents 

of  life, 

He  is  winged,  and  needeth  not  a  staff;  if  it  break, — he  shall  not  fall. 
And  lightly  perchance  doth  he  remember  the  stale  trivialities  around  him, 
He  liveth  in  the  realm  of  thought,  beyond  the  world  of  things : 
These  are  but  transient  Matter,  and  himself  enduring  Spirit : 
And  worldliness  will  laugh  to  scorn  that  sublimated  wisdom. 
His  eyes  may  open  on  a  prison-cell,  but  the  bare  walls  glow  with  imagery; 
His  ears  may  be  fi]led  with  execration,  but  are  listening  to  the  music  of 

sweet  thoughts ; 
He  may  dwell  in  a  hovel  with  a  hero's  heart,  and  canopy  his  penury  with 

peace,     * 
For  mind  is  a  kingdom  to  the  man,  who  gathereth  his  pleasure  from  Ideas. 


OF  NAMES.  215 


OF    NAMES. 

ADAM  gave  the  name,  when  the  Lord  had  made  his  creature, 

For  God  led  them  in  review,  to  see  what  man  would  call  them: 

As  they  struck  his  senses,  he  proclaimed  their  sounds, 

A  name  for  the  distinguishing  of  each,  a  numeral  by  which  it  should  bo 
known : 

He  specified  the  partridge  by  her  cry,  and  the  forest  prowler  by  his 
roaring, 

The  tree  by  its  use,  and  the  flower  by  its  beauty,  and  every  thing  accord- 
ing to  its  truth. 

There  is  an  arbitrary  name,  vvhereunto  the  idea  attacheth  ; 

And  there  is  a  reasonable  name,  linking  its  fitness  to  idea : 

Yet  shall  these  twain  run  in  parallel  courses, 

Neither  shall  tliou  readily  discern  the  habit  from  the  nature. 

For  mind  is  apt  and  quick  to  wed  ideas  and  names  together, 

Nor  stoppeth  its  perception  to  be  curious  of  priorities ; 

And  there  is  but  little  in  the  sound,  as  some  have  vainly  fancied. 

The  same  tone  in  different  tongues  shall  be  suitable  to  opposite  ideas ; 

Yea,  take  an  ensample  in  thine  own  ;  consider  similar  words  : 

How  various  and  contrary  the  thoughts  those  kindred  names  produce  : 

A  house  shall  seem  a  fitting  word  to  call  a  roomy  dwelling, 

Yet  there  is  a  like  propriety  in  the  small  smooth  sound,  a  mouse : 

Mountain,  as  if  of  a  necessity,  is  a  word  both  mighty  and  majestic, — 

What  heed  ye  then  of  fountain  ?— -flowing  silver  in  the  sun. 

Many  a  fair  flower  is  burdened  with  preposterous  appellatives, 

Which  the  wiser  simplicity  of  rustics  entitled  by  its  beauties  : 

And  often  the  conceit  of  science,  loving  to  be  thought  cosmopolite, 

Shall  mingle  names  of  every  clime,  alike  obscure  to  each. 

There  is  wisdom  in  calling  a  thing  fitly  ;  name  should  note  particulars 

Through  a  character  obvious  to  all  men,  and  worthy  of  their  instant 

acceptation. 

The  herbalist  had  a  simple  cause  for  every  word  upo »  his  catalogue, 
But  now  the  mouth  of  Botany  is  filled  with  empty  sound ; 
And  many  a  peasant  hath  an  answer  on  his  tongue,  concerning  some  vexed 

flower, 
Shrewder  than  the  centipede  phrase  wherewithal  philosophers  invest  it. 


216  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

For  that,  the  foolishness  of  pride,  and  flatteries  of  cringing  homage, 
Strew  with  chaff  the  threshing-floors  of  science ;  names  perplex  them  all : 
The  entomologist,  who  hath  pried  upon  an  insect,  straightway  shall  endow 

it  with  his  name ; 

It  had  many  qualities  and  marks  of  note, — but  in  chief,  a  vain  observer : 
The  geographer  shall  journey  to  the  pole,  through  biting  frost  and  de- 
solation, 

And,  for  some  simple  patron's  sake,  shall  name  that  land,  the  happy  : 
The  fossilist  hath  found  a  bone,  the  rib  of  some  huge  lizard, 
And  forthwith  standeth  to  it  sponsor,  to  tack  himself  on  reptue  immor- 
talities : 

The  sportsman,  hunting  at  the  Cape,  found  some  strange-homed  antelope, 
The  spots  are  new,  the  fame  is  cheap,  and  so  his  name  is  added. 
Thus,  obscurities  encumber  knowledge,  even  by  the  vanity  of  men, 
Who  play  into  each  other's  hand  the  game  of  giving  names. 

Various  are  the  names  of  men,  and  drawn  from  different  wells  ; 
Aspects  of  body,  or  characters  of  mind,  the  creature's  first  idea : 
And  some  have  sprung  of  trades,  and  some  of  dignities  or  office ; 
Other  some  added  to  a  father's,  and  yet  more  growing  from  a  place  : 
Animal  creation,  with  sciences  and  things, — their  composites,  and  nea? 

associations, 

Contributed  their  symbolings  of  old,  wherewith  to  title  men : 
And  heraldry  set  upon  its  cresture  the  figured  attributes  as  ensigns 
By  which,  as  by  a  name  concrete,  its  bearer  should  be  known. 

Egypt  opened  on  the  theme,  dressing  up  her  gods  in  qualities  j 
Horns  of  power,  feathers  of  the  swift,  mitres  of  catholic  dominion, 
The  sovereign  asps,  the  circle  cvenasting,  the  crook  and  thong  of  justice^ 
By  many  mystic  shapes  and  sounds  displayed  the  idol's  name. 
Thereafter,  high-plumed  warriors,  the  chieftains  of  Etruria  and  Troy, 
And  Xerxes,  urging  on  his  millions  to  the  tomb  of  pride,  Thermopylae, 
And  Hiero  with  his  bounding  ships  all  figured  at  the  prow, 
And  Rome's  Praetorian  standards,  piled  with  strange  devices, 
And  stout  crusaders  pressing  to  the  battle,  locked  in  shining  steel, — • 
These  all  in  their  speaking  symbols,  earned,  or  wore,  a  name. 
Eve,  the  mother  of  all  living,  and  Abraham,  father  of  a  multitude, 
Jacob,  the  supplanter,  and  David  the  beloved,  and  all  the  worthies  of  old 
time, 


OF  NAMES.  217 

N<fih,  who  came  for  consolation,  and  Bcnoni,  son  of  sorrow, 

Kings  and  prophets,  children  of  the  East,  pwned  each  his  title  of  Kgnifi- 


There  be  names  of  high  descent,  and  thereby  storied  honours ; 
Names  of  fair  renown,  and  therein  characters  of  merit : 
But  to  lend  the  lowborn  noble"  names,  is  to  shed  upon  them  ridicule  and  evil 
Yea,  many  weeds  run  rank  in  pride,  if  men  have  dubbed  them  cedars. 
And  to  herald  common  mediocrity  with  the  noisy  notes  of  fame, 
Tendeth  to  its  deeper  scorn ;  as  if  it  were  to  call  the  mole  a  mammoth. 
Yet  shall  ye  find  the  trader's  babe  dignified  with  sounding  titles, 
And  little  hath  the  father  guessed  the  harm  he  did  his  child : 
For  either  may  they  breed  him  discontent,  a  peevish  repining  at  his  sta- 
tion, 

Or  point  the  finger  of  despite  at  the  mule  in  the  trappings  of  an  elephant  • 
And  it  is  a  kind  of  theft  to  filch  appellations  from  the  famous, 
A  soiling  of  the  shrines  of  praise  with  folly's  vulgar  herd. 
Prudence  hath  often  gone  ashamed  for  the  name  they  added  to  his  father  8, 
tf  minds  of  mark  and  great  achievements  bore  it  well  before ; 
For  he  walketh  as  the  jay  in  the  fable,  though  not  by  his  own  folly, 
Another's  fault  hath  compassed  his  misfortune,  making  him  a  martyr  to 
his  name. 

Who  would  call  the  tench  a  whale,  or  style  a  torch,  Orion  ? 

Yet  many  a  silly  parent  hath  dealt  likewise  with  his  nursling. 

Give  thy  child  a  fit  distinguishment,  making  him  sole  tenant  of  a  name, 

For  it  were  a  sore  hindrance  to  hold  it  in  common  with  a  hundred ; 

In  the  Babel  of  confused  identities  fame  is  little  feasible, 

The  felon  shall  detract  from  the  philanthropist,  and  the  sage  share  hon- 
ours with  the  simple : 

Still,  in  thy  title  of  distinguishment,  fall  not  into  arrogant  assumption. 

Steering  from  caprice  and  affectations  ;  and  for  all  thou  doest,  have  a  rra- 
son. 

He  that  is  ambitious  for  his  son,  should  give  him  untried  names, 

For  those  that  have  served  other  men,  haply  may  injure  by  their  evils ; 

Or  otherwise  may  hinder  by  their  glories  ;  therefore  set  him  by  himself, 

To  win  for  his  individual  name  some  clear  specific  praise. 

There  were  nine  Homers,  all  goodly  sons  of  song ;  but  wnere  is  any 
record  of  the  eight  ? 

10 


218  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

One  grew  to  fame,  an  Aaron's  rod,  and  swallowed  up  his  brethren  :  (*•) 
Who  knoweth  ?  more  distinctly  titled,  those  dead  eight  had  lived ; 
But  the  censers  were  ranged  in  a  circle,  to  mingle  their  sweets  without  a 
difference. 

Art  thou  named  of  a  common  crowd,  and  sensible  of  high  aspirings  ? 

It  is  hard  for  thee  to  rise, — yet  strive  :    thou  mayst  be  among  them  a 

Musaeus. 

Art  thou  named  of  a  family,  the  same  in  successive  generations  ? 
Jt  is  open  to  thee  still  to  earn  for  epithets,  such  an  one,  the  good  or  great. 
Art  thou  named  foolishly  ?  show  that  thou  art  wiser  than  thy  fathers, 
Live  to  shame  their  vanity  or  sin  by  dutiful  devotion  to  thy  sphere. 
Art  thou  named  discreetly  ?  it  is  well,  the  course  is  free  ; 
No  competitor  shall  claim  thy  colours,  neither  fix  his  faults  upon  thee : 
Hasten  to  the  goal  of  fame  between  the  posts  of  duty, 
And  win  a  blessing  from  the  world,  that  men  may  love  thy  name ; 
Yea,  that  the  unction  of  its  praise,  in  fragrance  well  deserving, 
May  float  adown  the  stream  of  time,  like  ambergris  at  sea ; 
So  thy  sons  may  tell  their  sons,  and  those  may  teach  their  children, 
He  died  in  goodness,  as  he  lived ; — and  left  us  his  good  name. 
And  more  than  these :  there  is  a  roll  whereon  thy  name  is  written ; 
See  that,  on  the  Book  of  Doom,  that  name  is  fixed  in  light : 
Then,  safe  within  a  better  home,  where  time  and  its  titles  are  not  found, 
God  will  give  thee  his  new  Name,  and  write  it  on  thy  heart : 
A  Name,  better  than  of  sons,  a  Name  dearer  than  of  daughters, 
"A  Name  of  union,  peace,  and  praise,  as  numbered  in  thy  God. 


OF    THINGS. 

ABSTRACTED  from  all  substance,  and  flying  with  the  feathered  flock  of 

thoughts, 

The  idea  of  a  thing  hath  the  nature  of  its  Soul,  a  separate  seeming  es- 
sence : 

Intimately  linked  to  the  idea,  suggesting  many  qualities, 
The  name  of  a  thing  hath  the  nature  of  its  Mind,  an  intellectual  recorder: 
And  the  matter  of  a  thing,  concrete,  is  a  Body  to  the  perfect  creature, 


OF  THINGS.  819 

Compacted  three  in  one,  as  an  tnings  eise  wimin  the  Universe. 
Nothing  canst  thou  add  to  them,  and  nothing  take  away,  for  all  have 
**          these  proportions, 

The  thought,  the  word,  the  form,  combining  in  the  Thing: 
All  separate,  yet  harmonizing  well,  and  mingled  each  with  other, 
One  whole  in  several  parts,  yet  each  part  spreading  to  a  whole : 
The  idea  is  a  whole,  and  the  mean.ng  phrase  that  spake  idea,  a  whole, 
And  the  matter,  as'  ye  see  it,  is  a  whole  ;  the"  mystery  of  true  tri-unity : 
Yea,  there  is  even  a  deepe.  mystery, — which  none,  I  wot,  can  fathom, 
Matter,  different  from  properties  whereby  the  solid  substance  is  described. 
For,  size  and  weight,  cohesion  and  the  like,  live  distinct  from  matter, 
Yet  who  can  image  mutter,  unendowed  with  size  and  weight  ? 
As  in  the  spiritual,  so  in  the  material,  man  must  rest  with  patience, 
And  wait  for  other  eyes  wherewith  to  read  the  books  of  God. 

Men  have  talked  learnedly  of  atoms,  as  if  matter  could  be  ever  indivisible. 
They  talk,  but  ill  are  skilled  to  teach,  and  darken  truth  by  fancies : 
An  atom  by  our  grosser  sense  was  never  yet  conceived, 
And  nothing  can  be  thought  so  small,  as  not  to  be  divided : 
For  an  atom  runneth  to  infinity,  and  never  shall  be  caught  in  space, 
And  a  molecule  is  no  more  indivisible  than  Saturn's  belted  orb. 
Things  intangible,'multiplied  by  multitudes,  never  will  amass  to  substance, 
Neither  can  a  thing  which  may  be  touched,  be  made  of  impalpable  pro- 
portions ;        • 

The  sum  of  indivisibles  must  needs  be  indivisible,  as  adding  many  nothings, 
And  the  building  up  of  atoms  into  matter  is  but  a  silly  sophism ; 
Lucretius  and  keen  Anaximander,  and  many  that  have  followed  in  their 

thoughts, 

(For  error  hath  a  long  black  shadow,  dimming  light  for  ages,) 
In  the  foolishness  of  men  without  a  God  fancied  to  fashion  Matter 
Of  intangibles,  and  therefore  uncouering,  indivisibles  and  therefore  Spirit 

Things  breed  thoughts  ;  therefore  at  Thebes  and  Heliopolis, 
In  hieroglyphic  sculptures  are  the  priestly  secrets  written  ; 
Things  breed  thoughts  ;  therefore  was  the  Athens  of  Idolatry 
Set  with  carved  images,  frequent  as  the  trees  of  Academus  ; 
Things  breed  thoughts ;  therefore  the  Brahmin  and  the  Burman 
With  mythologic  shapes  adorn  their  coarse  pantheon  ; 
Things  breed  thoughts ;  therefore  the  statue  and  the  picture, 


220  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Relics,  rosaries,  and  miracles  in  act,  quicken  the  Papist  in  his  worship* 
Things  breed  thoughts ;  therefore  the  lovers  at  their  parting, 
Interchanged  with  tearful  smiles  the  dear  reminding  tokens ; 
Things  breed  thoughts ;  therefore,  when  the  clansman  met  his  foe, 
The  blood-stained  claymore  in  his  hand  revived  the  memories  of  vengeance. 

Things  teach  with  double  force ;  through  the  anima    eye,  and  througn 

the  mind, 
And  the  eye  catchoth  in  an  instant,  what  the  ear  shall  not  learn  within  an 

hour. 

Thence  is  the  potency  of  travel,  the  precious  might  of  its  advantages 
To  compensate  its  dissipative  harm,  its  toil  and  cost  and  danger. 
Ulysses,  wandering  to  many  shores,  lived  in  many  cities, 
And  thereby  learnt  the  minds  of  men,  and  stored  his  own  more  richly : 
Herodotus,  the  accurate  and  kindly,  spake  of  that  he  saw, 
And  reaped  his  knowledge  on  the  spot,  in  fertile  fields  of  Egypt : 
Lycurgus  culled  from  every  clime  the  golden  fruits  of  justice  ; 
And  Plato  roamed  through  foreign  lands,  to  feed  on  truth  in  all. 
For  travel,  conversant  with  Things,  bringeth  them  in  contact  with  the  mind ; 
We  breathe  the  wholesome  atmosphere  about  ungarbled  truth : 
Pictures  of  fact  are  painted  on  the  eye,  to  decorate  the  house  of  intellect. 
Rather  than  visions  of  fancy,  filling  all  the  chambers  with  a  vapour. 
For,  in  ideas,  the  great  mind  will  exaggerate,  and  the  lesser  extenuate  truth : 
But  in  Things  the  one  is  chastened,  and  the  other  quickened,  to  equality , 
And  in  Names,' — though  a  property  be  told,  rather  than  an  arbitrary 

accident,  « 

Still  shall  the  thought  be  vague  or  false,  if  none  bath  seen  the  Thing ; 
tTor  in  Things  the  property  with  accident  standeth  in  a  mass  concrete, 
These  cannot  cheat  the  sense,  nor  elude  the  vigilance  of  spirit. 
Travel  is  a  ceaseless  fount  of  surface  education, 

But  its  wisdom  will  be  simply  superficial,  if  thou  add  not  thoughts  to  things : 
Yet,  aided  by  the  varnish  of  society,  things  may  serve  for  thoughts, 
Till  many  dullards  that  have  seen  the  world  shall  pass  for  scholars : 
Because  one  single  glance  will  conquer  all  descriptions, 
Though  graphic,  these  left  some  unsaid,  though  true,  these  tended  to  some 

error, 

And  the  most  witless  eye  that  saw,  had  a  juster  notion  of  its  object 
Than  the  shrewdest  mind  that  hoard  and  shaped  its  gathered  thoughts  of 

Things. 

• 


OF  FAITH. 


.  *  OF   FAITH. 

CONFIDENCE  was  bearer  of  the  palm  ;  for  it  looked  like  conviction  of  desert: 
And  where  the  strong  is  well  assured,  the  weaker  soon  allow  it. 
Majesty  and  beauty  are  commingled,  in  moving  with  immutable  decision, 
And  well  may  charm  the  coward  hearts  that  turn  and  hide  for  fear. 
Faith,  firmness,  confidence,  consistency, — these  are  well'  allied ; ' 
Yea,  let  a  man  press  on  in  aught,  he  shall  not  lack  of  honour : 
For  such  an  one  seemeth  as  superior  to  the  native  instability  of  creatures : 
Thatlie  doeth,  he  doeth  as  a  god,  and  men  will  marvel  at  his  courage. 
Even  in  crimes  a  partial  praise  cannot  be  denied  to  daring, 
And  many  fearless  chiefs  have  wou  the  friendship  of  a  foe. 

Confidence  is  conqueror  of  men ;  victorious  both  over  them  and  in  them ; 
The  iron  will  of  one  stout  heart  shall  make  a  thousand  quail : 
A  feeble  dwarf,  dauntlessly  resolved,  will  turn  the  tide  of  battle, 
And  rally  to  a  nobler  strife  the  giants  that  had  fled : 

The  tenderest  child,  unconscious  of  a  fear,  will  shame  Jhe  man  to  danger, 
And  when  he  dared  it,  danger  died,  and  faith  had  vanquished  fear. 
Boldness  is  akin  to  power :  yea,  because  ignorance  is  weakness, 
Knowledge  with  unshrinking  might  will  nerve  the  vigorous  hand : 
Boldness  hath  a  startlfng  strength  ;  the  mouse  may  fright  a  lion, 
And  oftentimes  the  horned  herd  is  scared  by  some  brave  cur. 
Courage  hath  analogy  with  faith,  for  it  standeth  both  in  animal  and  moral; 
The  true  is  mindful  of  a  God,  the  false  is  stout  in  self : 
But  true  or  false,  the  twain  are  faith ;  and  faith  worketh  wonders : 
Never  was  a  marvel  done  upon  the  earth,  but  it  had  sprung  of  faith : 
Nothing  noble,  generous,  or  great,  but  faith  was  the  root  of  the  achieve- 
ment ; 

Nothing  comely,  nothing  famous,  but  its  praise  is  faith. 
Leonidas  fought  in  human  faith,  as  Joshua  in  divine  : 
Xenophon  trusted  to  his  skill,  and  the  sons  of  Mattathias  to  their  cause:  (*') 
In  faith  Columbus  found  a  path  across  those  untried  waters  : 
The  heroines  of  Arc  and  Saragossa  fought  in  earthly  faith  : 
Tell  was  strong,  and  Alfred  great,  and  Luther  wise,  by  faith  ; 
Margaret  by  faith  was  valiant  for  her  son,  and  Wallace  mighty  for  bis 
people : 


223  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Faith  in  his  reason  made  Socrates  sublime,  as  faith  in  his  science,  Galileo: 
Ambassadors  in  faith  are  bold,  and  unreproved  for  boldness : 
Faith  urged  Fabius  to  delays,  and  sent  forth  Hannibal  to  Cannae  : 
Caesar  at  the  Rubicon,  Miltiades  at  Marathon :  both  were  sped  by  faith. 
I  set  not  all  in  equal  spheres :  I  number  not  the  martyr  with  the  patriot ; 
I  class  not  the  hero  with  his  horse,  because  the  twain  have  courage : 
But  only  for  ensample  and  instruction,  that  all  things  stand  by  faith ; 
Albeit  faith  of  divers  kinds,  and  varying  in  degrees. 
There  is  faith  towards  men,  and  there  is  faith  towards  God ; 
The  latter  is  the  gold,  and  the  former  is  the  brass  ;  but  both  are  sturdy 

metal : 

And  the  brass  mingled  with  the  gold  floweth  into  rich  Corinthian ;     « 
A  substance  bright  and  hard  and  keen,  to  point  Achilles'  spear : 
So  shalt  thou  stop  the  way  against  the  foes  that  hem  thee ; 
Trust  hi  God,  to  strengthen  man ; — be  bold,  for  He  doth  help. 

Yet  more :  for  confidence  in  man,  even  to  the  worst  and  meanest, 
Hath  power  to  overcome  his  ill,  by  charitable  good. 
Fling  thine  unreserving  trust,  even  on  the  conscience  of  a  culprit, 
Soon  wilt  thou  shame  him  by  thy  faith,  and  he  will  melt  and  mend  : 
The  nest  of  thieves  will  harm  thee  not,  if  thou  dost  bear  thee  boldly  : 
"Boldly,  yea  and  kindly,  as  relying  on  their  honour  : 
For  the  hand  so  stout  against  agression,  is  quite  disarmed  by  charity ; 
And  that  warm  sun  will  thaw  the  heart  case-hardened  by  long  frost. 
Treat  men  gently,  trust  them  strongly,  if  thou  wish  their  weal ; 
Or  cautious  doubts  and  bitter  thoughts  will  tempt  the  best  to  foil  thee ; 
Believe  the  well  in  sanguine  hope,  and  thou  shalt  reap  the  better ; 
But  if  thou  deal  with  men  so  ill,  thy  dealings  make  them  worse. 
Despair  not  of  some  gleams  of  good  still  lingering  in  the  darkest, 
And  among  veterans  in  crime,  plead  thou  as  with  their  children : 
So  astonied  at  humanities,  the  bad  heart  long  estranged, 
Shall  even  weep  to  feel  himself  so  little  worth  thy  love ; 
In  wholesome  sorrow  will  he  bless  thee ;  yea,  and  in  that  spirit  may 

repent ;  /^ 

Thus,  wilt  thou  gain  a  soul,  in  mercy  given  to  thy  faith. 

Look  aside  to  lack  of  faith,  the  mass  of  ills  it  bringeth ; 
All  things  treacherous,  base,  and  vile,  dissolving  the  brotherhood  of  men. 
Bonds  break ;  the  cement  hath  lost  its  hold,  and  each  is  separate  from 
other; 


OF  FAITH.  223 

That  which  should  be  neighbourly  and  good,  is  cankered  into  bitternesa 

and  evil. 

O  thou  serpent,  fell  Suspicion,  coiling  coldly  round  the  heart,— 
O  thou  asp  of  subtle  Jealousy,  stinging  hotly  to  the  soul, — 
O  distrust,  reserve,  and  doubt, — what  reptile  shapes  are  here, 
Poisoning  the  garden  of  a  world  with  death  among  its  flowers ! 
No  need  of  many  words,  the  tale  is  easy  to  be  told : 
A  point  will  touch  the  truth,  a  line  suggest  the  picture. 
For  if,  in  thine  own  home,  a  cautious  man  and  captious, 
Thou  hintest  at  suspicion  of  a  servant,  thou  soon  wilt  make  a  thief; 
Or  if,  too  keen  in  care,  thou  dost  evidently  disbelieve  thy  child, 
Thou*  hast  injured  the  texture  of  his  honour,  and  smoothed  to  him  th« 

way  of  lying : 

Or  if  thou  observes!  upon  friends,  as  seeking  thee  selfishly  for  interest. 
Thou  hast  hurt  their  kindliness  to  thee,  and  shall  be  paid  with  scorn : 
Or  if,  O  silly  ones  of  marriage,  your  foul  and  foolish  thoughts, 
Hashly  misinterpreting  in  each  the  levity  of  innocence  for  sin, 
Shall  pour  upon  the  lap  of  home  pain  where  once  was  pleasure, 
And  mix  contentions  in  the  cup,  that  mantled  once  with  comforts, 
Bitterly  and  justly  shall  ye  rue  the  punishment  due  to  unbelief; 
Ye  trust  not  each  the  other,  nor  the  mutual  vows  of  God ; 
Take  heed,  for  the  pit  may  now  be  near,  a  pit  of  your  own  digging,— 
Faith  abused  tempteth  unto  crime,  and  doubt  may  make  its  monster. 

Man  verily  is  vile,  but  more  in  capability  than  action ; 

His  sinfulness  is  deep,  but  his  transgressions  may  be  few,  even  from  the 

absence  of  temptation : 

He  is  hanging  in  a  gulf  midway,  but  the  air  is  breathable  about  him : 
Thrust  him  not  from  that  slight  hold,  to  perish  in  the  vapours  underneath, 
For,  God  pleadeth  with  the  deaf,  as  having  ears  to  hear, 
Christ  speaketh  to  the  dead,  as  those  that  are  capable  of  living ; 
And  an  evil  teacher  is  that  man,  a  tempter  to  much  sin, 
Who  looketh  on   his   hearers  with  distrust,  and   hath  no  confidence  in 

brethren. 
All  may  mend ;  and  sympathies  are  healing ;  and  reason  hath  its  influence 

with  the  worst ; 
And  in  those  worst  is  ample  hope,  if  only  thou  have  charity,  and  faith. 

Somewhiles  have  1  watched  a  man  exchanging  the  sobriety  of  faith, 


234  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY.' 

Old  lamps  for  new, — even  for  fanatical  excitements. 

He  gained  surface,  but  lost  solidity ;  heat,  in  lieu  of  health ; 

And  still  with  swelling  words  and  thoughts  he  scorned  his  ancient  coldness : 

But  his  strength  was  shorn  as  Samson's ;  he  walked  he  knew  not  whither ; 

Doubt  was  on  his  daily  path  ;  and  duties  showed  "not  certain. 

Until,  in  an  hour  of  enthusiasm,  stung  with  secret  fears, 

He  pinned  the  safety  of  his  soul  on  some  false  prophet's  sleeve. 

And  then,  that  sure  word  failed ;  and  with  it  failed  his  faith ; 

It  failed,  and  fell ;  O  deep  and  dreadful  was  his  fall  in  faith. 

He  could  not  stop,  with  reason's  rein,  his  coursers  on  the  slope, 

And  so  they  dashed  him  down  the  cliff  of  hardened  unbelief. 

With  overreaching  grasp  he  had  strained  for  visionary  treasures, 

But  a  fiend  had  cheated  his  presumption,  and  hurled  him  to  despair ; 

So  he  lay  in  his  blood,  the  victim  of  a  credulous  false  faith, 

And  many  nights,  and  night-like  days,  he  dwelt  in  outer  darkness, 

But,  within  a  while,  his  variable  mind  caught  a  new  impression, 

A  new  impression  of  the  good  old  stamp,  that  sealed  him  when  a  child : 

He  was  softened,  and  abjured  his  infidelity ;  he  was  wiser,  and  despised 

his  credulity : 

And  turned  again  to  simple  faith  more  simply  than  before. 
Experience  had  declared  too  well  his  mind  was  built  of  water, 
And  so  renouncing  strength  hi  self,  he  fixed  his  faith  in  God. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  stipulate  for  creeds ;  Bible,  Church,  and  Reason, 

These  three  shall  lead  the  mind,  if  any  can,  to  truth. 

But  I  must  stipulate  for  faith  ;  both  God  and  man  demand  it : 

Trust  is  great  in  either  world,  if  any  would  be  well. 

Verily,  the  skeptical  propensity  is  an  universal  foe ; 

Sneering  Pyrrho  never  found,  nor  cared  to  find,  a  friend : 

How  could  he  trust  another  ?  and  himself,  whom  would  he  not  deceive  ? 

His  proper  gains  were  all  his  aim,  and  interests  clash  with  kindness. 

So,  the  Bedouin  goeth  armed,  an  enemy  to  all, 

The  spear  is  stuck  beside  his  couch,  the  dagger  hid  beneath  his  pillow. 

For  society,  void  of  mutual  trust,  of  credit,  and  of  faith, 

Would  fall  asunder  as  a  waterspout,  snapped  from  the  cloud's  attraction. 

Faith  may  rise  into  miracles  of  might,  as  some  few  wise  have  shown : 
Faith  may  sink  into  credulities  of  weakness,  as  the  mass  of  foola  have 
witnessed. 


OF  FAITH.  22» 

Therefore,  in  the  first,  saints  and  martyrs  have  fulfilled  their  mission, 

Conquering  dangers,  courting  deaths,  and  triumphing  hi  all. 

Therefore,  in  the  last,  the  magician  and  the  witch,  victims  of  their  own 

delusion, 

Have  gained  the-  bitter  wages  of  impracticable  sins. 
They  believed  in  allegiance  with  ,Satan ;  they  worked  in  that  belief, 
And  thereby  earned  the  loss  and  harm  of  guilt  thafr  might  not  be, 
For,  faith  hath  two  hands  ;  with  the  one  it  addeth  virtue  to  indifferents  ; 
Yea,  it  sanctified  a  Judith  and  a  Jael,  for  what  otherwise  were  treachery 

and  murder : 

With  the  other  hand  it  heapeth  crime  even  on  impossibles  or  simples, 
And  many  a  wizard  well  deserved  the  faggot  for  his  faith : 
He  trusted  in  his  intercourse  with  evil,  he  sacrificed  heartily  to  fiends, 
He  withered  up  with  curses  to  the  limit  of  his  will,  and  was  vile,  because 

he  thought  himself  a  villain. 

A  great  mind  is  ready  to  believe,  for  he  hungereth  to  feed  on  facts, 

And  the  gnawing  stomach  of  his  ignorance  craveth  unceasing  to  be  filled : 

A  little  mind  is  boastful  and-incredulous,  for  he  fancieth  all  knowledge  is 

his  own, 

So  will  he  cavil  at  a  truth ;  how  should  it  be  true,  and  he  not  know  it  ?— 
There  is  an  easy  scheme,  to  solve  all  riddles  by  the  sensual, 
And  thus,  despising  mysteries,  to  feel  the  more  sufficient : 
For  it  comforteth  the  foul  hard  heart,  to  reject  the  pure  unseen, 
And  relievethThe  dull  soft  head,  to  hinder  one  from  gazing  upon  vacancy. 
True  wisdom,  labouring  to  expound,  heareth  others  readily ; 
False  wisdom,  sturdy  to  deny,  closeth  up  her  mind  to  argument. 
The  sum  of  certainties  is  found  so  small,  their  field  so  wide  an  universe, 
That  many  things  may  truly  be,  which  man  hath  not  conceived : 
The  characters  revealed  of  God  are  a  strong  mind's  sole  assurance 
That  any  strangeness  may  not  stand  a  sober  theme  for  faith. 
Ignorance  being  light  denied,  this  ought  to  show  the  stronger  in  its  view, 
But  ignorance  is  commonly  a  double  negative,  both  of  light  and  morals : 
So,  adding  vanity  to  blindness,  for  ease  it  taketh  refuge  hi  a  doubt, 
And  aching  soon  with  ceaseless  doubt,'  it  finisheth  the  strife  by  misbe- 
lieving. 

Faith,  by  its  very  nature,  shall  embrace  Ifcth  credence  and  obedience  • 
Yea,  tne  word  for  both  is  one,  and  cannot  be  divided.  ('*) 

10* 


226  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

For,  work  void  of  faith,  wherein  can  it  be  counted  for  a  duty  ? 

And  faith  not  seen  in  work, — whereby  can  the  doctrine  be  discovered  ? 

Faith  in  religion  is  an  instrument ;  a  handle,  and  the  hand  to  turn  it ; 

Less  a  condition  than  a  mean,  and  more  an  operation  than  a  virtue. 

A  moral  sickness,  like  to  sin,  must  have  a  moral  cure ; 

And  faith  alone  can  heal  the  mind,  whose  malady  is  sense. 

Ye  are  told  of  God's  deep  love ;  they  that  believe  will  love  him ; 

They  that  love  him,  will  obey  ;  and  obedience  hath  its  blessing. 

Ye  are  taught  of  the  soul's  great  price  :  they  that  believe  will  prize  it, 

And,  prizing  soul,  will  cherish  well  the  hopes  that  make  it  happy. 

Effects  spring  from  feelings  :  and  feelings  grow  of  faith  : 

If  a  man  conceive  himself  insulted,  will  not  his  anger  smite  ? 

Thus,  let  a  soul  believe  his  state,  his  danger,  destiny,  redemption, 

Will  he  not  feel  eager  to  be  safe,  like  him  that  kept  the  prison  at  Philippi? 

A  mother  had  an  only  son,  and  sent  him  out  to  sea : 

She  was  a  widow,  and  in  penury ;  and  he  must  seek  his  fortunes. 

How  often  in  the  wintry  nights,  when  waves  and  winds  were  howling, 

Her  heart  was  torn  with  sickening  dread,  and  bled  to  see  her  boy. 

And  on  one  sunny  morn,  when  all  around  was  comfort, 

News  came  that,  weeks  agone,  the  vessel  had  been  wrecked ; 

Yea,  wrecked,  and  he  was  dead  !  they  had  seen  him  perish  in  his  agony : 

Oh  then,  what  agony  was  like  to  hers, — for  she  believed  the  tale  ? 

She  was  bowed  and  broken  down  with  sorrow,  and  uncomforted  in  prayer ; 

Many  nights  she  mourned,  and  pined,  and  had  no  hope  but  «teath. 

But  on  a  day,  while  sorely  she  was  weeping,  a  stranger  broke  upon  her 

•     loneliness, — 

He  had  news  to  tell,  that  weather-beaten  man,  and  must  not  be  denied 
And  what  were  the  wonder-working  words  that  made  this  mourner  joyous, 
That  swept  her  heaviness  away,  and  filled  her  world  with  praise  ? 
Her  son  was  saved, — is  alive, — is  near  ! — O  did  she  stop  to  question  ? 
No,  rushing  hi  the  force  of  faith,  she  met  him  at  the  door ! 


OF    HONESTY. 

ALL  is  vanity  wnki  is  not  honesty ; — thus  is  it  graven  on  the  tomo ; 
And  there  is  no  wisdom  but  in  piety ; — so  the  dead  man  preacheth : 


OF  HONESTY.  227 

For,  in  a  simple  village  church,  among  those  classic  shades 

Which  sylvan  Evelyn  loved  to  rear,  (his  praise  and  my  delight,) 

These,  the  words  of  truth,  are  writ  upon  his  sepulchre 

Who  learnt  much  lore,  and  knew  all  trees  from  the  cedar  to  the  hyssop 

on  the  wall. 

A  just  conjunction,  godliness  and  honesty,  ministering  to  both  worlds, 
Well  wed,  and  ill  to  be  divided,  a  pair  that  God  hath  joined  together. 
I  touch  not  now  the  vulgar  thought,  as  of  tricks  and  cheateries  in  trade  ; 
I  speak  of  honest  purpose,  character,  speech  and  action : 
For  an  honest  man  hath  special  need  of  charity,  and  prudence, 
Of  a  deep  and  humbling  self-acquaintance,  and  of  blessed  commerce  with 

his  God, 

So  that  the  keennesses  of  truth  may  be  freed  from  asperities  of  censure, 
And  the  just  but  vacillating  mind  be  not  made  the  pendulum  of  arguments : 
For  a  false  reason,  shrewdly  put,  can  often  not  be  answered  on  the  instant, 
And  prudence  looketh  unto  faith,  content  to  wait  solutions : 
Yea,  it  looketh,  yea,  it  waiteth,  still  holding  honesty  in  leash, 
Lest,  as  a  hot  young  hound,  it  track  not  game,  but  vermin. 
Many  a  man  of  honest  heart,  but  ignorant  of  self  and  God, 
Hath  followed  the  marsh-fires  of  pestilence,  esteeming  them  the  lights  of 

truth; 
He  heard  a  cause,  which  he  had  not  skill  to  solve, — and  so  received  it 

gladly, 

And  that  cause  brought  its  consequence  of  harm  to  an  unstable  soul. 
Prudence  for  a  man's  own  sake,  never  should  be  separate  from  honesty 
And  charity,  for  other's  good  and  his,  must  still  be  joined  therewith : 
For  the  harshly  chiding  tongue  hath  neither  pleasuring  nor  profit,- 
And  the  cold  unsympathizing  heart  never  gained  a  good. 
Sin  is  a  sore,  and  folly  is  a  fever ;  touch  them  tenderly  for  healing ; 
The  bad  chirurgeon's  awkward  knife  harmeth  spite  of  honesty. 
Still,  a  rough  diamond  is  better  than  the  polished  paste, — 
That  courteous,  flattering  fool,  who  spake  of  vice  as  virtue : 
And  honesty,  even  by  itself,  though  making  many  adversaries, 
Whom  prudence  might  have  set  aside,  or  charity  have  softened, 
Evermore  will  prosper  at  the  last,  and  gain  a  man  great  honour 
By  giving  others  many  goods,  to  his  own  cost  and  hindrance. 

Freedom  is  father  of  the  honest,  and  sturdy  Independence  is  his  brother : 
These  three,  with  heart  and  hand,  dwell  together  in  unity. 


SU,  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  blunt  yeoman,  stout  and  true,  will  speak  unto  princes  unabashed : 

His  mind  is  loyal,  just  and  free,  a  crystal  in  its  plain  integrity ; 

What  should  make  such  an  one  ashamed  ?  where  courtiers  kneel,  he 

standeth ; — - 

I  will  indeed  bow  before  the  king,  but  knees  were  knit  for  God. 
And  many  such  there  be,  of  a  high  and  noble  conscience, 
Honourable,  generous,  and  kind,  though  blessed  with  little  light : 
What  should  he  barter  for  his  freedom  ?  some  petty  gain  of  gold  ? 
Free  of  speech,  and  free  in  act,  magnates  honour  him  for  boldness : 
Long  may  he  flourish  hi  his  peace,  and  a  stalwart  race  around  him, 
Rooted  in  the  soil  like  oaks,  and  hardy  as  the  pine  upon  the  mountains ! 

Yet,  there  be  others,  that  will  truckle  to  a  lie,  selling  honesty  for  interest : 

And  do  they  gain  ? — they  gain  but  loss  ;  a  little  cash,  with  scorn. 

Behold,  the  sorrowful  change  wrought  upon  a  fallen  nature : 

He  hath  lost  his  own  esteem,  and  other  men's  respect ; 

For  the  buoyancy  of  upright  faith,  he  is  clothed  in  the  heaviness  of 

cringing ; 

For  plain  truth  where  none  could  err,  he  hath  chosen  tortuous  paths ; 
In  lieu  of  his  majesty  of  countenance — the  timorous  glances  of  servility : 
Instead  of  Freedom's  honest  pride, — the  spirit  of  a  slave. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  somewhat  to  be  pleaded,  even  for  a  necessary  guile, 

Whilst  the  world,  and  all  that  is  therein,  lieth  deep  in  evil. 

Who  can  be  altogether  honest, — a  champion  never  out  of  mail, 

Ready  to  break  a  lance  for  truth  with  every  crowding  error  ? 

Who  can  be  altogether  honest, — dragging  out  the  secrecies  of  life, 

And  risking  to  be  lashed  and  loathed  for  each  unkind  disclosure  ? 

Who  can  be  altogether  honest, — living  in  perpetual  contentions, 

And  prying  out  the  petty  cheats  that  swell  the  social  scheme  ? 

For  he  must  speak  his  instant  mind,— a  mind  corrupt  and  sinful, 

Exhibiting  to  other  men's  disgust  its  undisguised  deformities  ; 

He  must  utter  all  the  hatred  of  his  heart,  and  add  to  it  the  venom  of  his 

tongue ; 
Shall  he  feel,  and  hide  his  feelings  ?  that  were  the  meanness  of  a  hypo 

crite. — 

Still,  O  man,-  such  hypocrisy  is  better  than  this  bold  honesty  to  sin : 
Kill  the  feeling,  or  conceal  it :  let  shame  at  least  do  the  work  of  charity. 
O  charity,  thou  livest  not  in  warnings,  meddling  among  men, 


OF  HONESTY.  2» 

Rebuking  every  foolish  word,  and  censuring  small  sins ; 
This  is  not  thy  secret, — rather  wilt  thou  hide  their  multitude, 
And  silence  the  condemning  tongue,  and  wearisome  exhortation, 
But  for  thee,  thy  strength  and  zeal  shine  in  encouragement  to  good, 
Lifting  up  the  lantern  of  ensample,  that  wanderers  may  find  the  way : 
That  lantern  is  not  lit  to  gaze  on  all  the  hatefulness  of  evil, 
But  set  on  high  for  life  and  light,  the  loveliness  of  good. 
The  hard  censorious  mind  sitteth  as  a  keen  anatotaiist, 
"  Tracking  up  the  fibres  in  corruption,  and  prying  on  a  fearful  corpse : 
But  the  charitable  soul  is  a  young  lover,  enamoured  little  wisely, 
That  saw  no  fault  in  her  he  loved,  and  sought  to  see  one  less  ; 
So,  in  his  kind  and  genial  light,  she  grew  more  worthy  of  his  love ; 
Won  to  good  by  gentle  suns,  and  not  by  frowning  tempest. 

Verily,  infirm  thyself, — be  slow  to  chide  a  brother's  imperfections : 

For  many  times  the  decent  veil  must  hang  on  faults  of  nature, 

And  the  rude  hands,  that  rend  it,  offend  against  the  modesty  of  right, 

While  seeming  zeal,  and  its  effort  to  do  good,  is  only  feigned  self-praise . 

Often  will  the  meannesses  of  life,  hidden  away  in  corners, 

Prove  wisdom ;  and  the  generous  is  glad  to  leave  them  unregarded  in  the 

shade. 

The  follies  none  are  found  to  praise,  let  them  die  unblamed : 
Thine  honest  strife  will  only  tend  to  make  some  think  them  wise : 
And  small  conventional  deceits,  let  them  live  uncensured : 
Or  if  thou  war  with  pigmies,  thou  shalt  haply  help  the  cranes. 
Where  to  be  blind  was  safety,  Ovid  had  been  wise  for  winking :  (") 
And  when  a  tell-tale  might  do  harm,  be  sure  it  is  prudent  to  be  dumb : 
That  which  is  just  and  fit  is  often  found  combating  with  honesty  : 
In  the  cause  of  good,  be  wise  ;  and  hi  a  case  indifferent,  keep  silence. 

Let  honesty's  unblushing  face  be  shaded  by  the  mantle  of  humility, 

So  shall  it  shine  a  lamp  of  love,  and  not  the  torch  of  strife  : 

Otherwise  the  lantern  of  Diogenes,  presumptuously  thrust  before  the 

face, 

If  it  never  find  an  honest  man,  shall  often  make  an  angered. 
Let  honesty  be  companied  by  charity  of  heart,  lest  it  walk  unwelcome, 
Or  the  mouthing  censor  of  others  and  himself,  soon  shall  sink"  to  scorn. 
Let  honesty  be  added  unto  innocence  of  life  :  then  a  man  may  only  be  its 

martyr: 


230  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

But  if  openness  of  speech  be  found  with  secrecy  of  guilt,  the  martyr  will 
be  seen  a  malefactor. 

There  is  a  cunning  scheme,  to  put  on  surface  bluntness, 

And  cover  still  deep  water,  with  the  clamorous  ripples  of  a  shallow. 

For  a  man,  to  gain  his  selfish  ends,  will  make  a  stalking-horse  of  honesty  ; 

And  hide  his  poaching  limbs  behind,  that  he  may  cheat  the  quicker. 

Such  an  one  is  loud  and  ostentatious,  full  of  oaths  for  argument, 

Boastful  of  honour  and  sincerity,  and  not  to  be  put  down  by  facts  : 

He  is  obstinate,  and  showeth  it  for  firmness  ;  he  is  rude,  displaying  it  for 

truth : 
And  glorieth  in  doggedness  of  temper,  as  if  it  were   uncompromising 

justice. 

Be  aware  of  such  a  man ;  his  brawling  covereth  designs ; 
This  specious  show  of  honesty  cometh  as  the  herald  of  a  thief : 
His  feint  is  made  with  awkward  clashing  on  the  buckler's  boss, 
But  meanwhile  doth  his  secret  skill  ensure  its  fatal  aim. 
This  is  the  hypocrite  of  honesty ;  ye  may  know  him  by  an  overacted 

part; 

Taking  pains  to  turn  and  twist,  where  other  men  walk  straight ; 
Or  walking  straight,  he  will  not  step  aside  to  let  another  pass, 
But  roughly  pusheth  on,  provoking  opposition  on  the  way ; 
He  is  full  of  disquietude  for  calmness,  full  of  intriguing  for  simplicity, 
Valorous  with  those  who  cannot  fight,  and  humble  to  the  brave ; 
Where  brotherly  advice  were  good,  this  man  rudely  blameth, 
And  on  some  small  occasion,  flattereth  with  coarse  praise. 
The  craven  in  a  lion's  skin  hath  conquer'd  by  his  character  for  courage  ; 
Sheep's  clothing  helped  the  wolf,  till  he  slew  by  lu's  character  for  kind 


For  honesty  hath  many  gains,  and  well  the  wise  have  known 

This  will  prosper  to  the  end,  and  fill  their  house  with  gold. 

The  phosphorus  of  cheatery  will  fade,  and  all  its  profit  perish, 

While  honesty,  with  glowing  light,  endureth  as  the  moon. 

Yea,  it  would  be  wise  in  a  world  of  thieves,  where'  cheating  were  a 

virtue, 

To  dare  the  vice  of  honesty,  if  any  would  be  rich. 
For  that  which  by  the  laws  of  God  is  heightened  into  duty, 
Ever,  in  the  practice  of  a  man,  will  be  seen  both  policy  and  privilege. 


OF  SOCIETY.  231 

Thank  God,  ye  toilers  for  your  bread,  in  that,  daily  labouring, 

He  hath  suffered  the  bubbles  of  self-interest  to  float  upon  the  stream  of 

duty: 

For  honesty,  of  every  kind,  approved  by  God  and  man, 
Of  wealth  and  better  weal  is  found  the  richest  cornucopia. 
Tempered  by  humbleness  and  charity,  honesty  of  speech  hath  honour ; 
And  mingled  well  with  prudence,  honesty  of  purpose  hath  its  praise : 
.Trust  paveth  homage  unto  truth,  rewarding  honesty  of  action : 
And  all  men  love  to  lean  on  him,  who  never  faLed  nor  fainted. 
Freedom  gloweth  in  his  eyes,  and  nobleness  of  nature  at  his  heart, 
And  Independence  took  a  crown  and  fixed  it  on  his  head  : 
So,  he  stood  in  his  intregrity,  just  and  firm  of  purpose, 
Aiding  many,  fearing  none,  a  spectacle  to  angels,  and  to  men  : 
Yea, — when  the  shattered  globe  shall  rock  in  the  throes  of  dissolution, 
Still,  will  he  stand  in  his  integrity,  sublime — an  honest  man. 


OF    SOCIETY. 

BETTER  is  the  mass  of  men,  Suspicion,  than  thy  fears 

Kinder  than  thy  thoughts,  O  chilling  heart  of  Prudence, 

Purer  than  thy  judgments,  ascetic  tongue  of  censure, 

In  all  things  worthier  to  love,  if  not  also  wiser  to  esteem. 

Yea,  let  the  moralist  condemn,  there  be  large  extenuations  of  his  verdict, 

Let  the  misanthrope  shun  men  and  abjure,  the  most  are  rather  loveable 
than  hateful. 

How  many  pleasant  faces  shed  their  light  on  every  side ! 

How  many  angels  unawares  have  crossed  thy  casual  way  ! 

How  often,  hi  thy  journeyings,  hast  thou  made  thee  instant  friends, 

Found,  to  be  loved  a  little  while,  and  lost,  to  meet  no  more ; 

Friends  of  happy  reminiscence,  although  so  transient  in  their  converse, 

Liberal,  cheerful,  and  sincere,  a  crowd  of  kindly  traits. 

I  have  sped  by  land  and  sea,  and  mingled  with  much  people, 

But  never  yet  could  find  the  spot  unsunned  by  human  kindness : 

Some  more  and  some  less, — but,  truly,  all  can  claim  a  little  ; 

And  a  man  may  travel  through  the  world,  and  acw  it  thick  with  friend- 
ships. 


232  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

There  be  indeed,  to  say  it  in  all  sorrow,  bad  apostate  souls, 
Deserted  of  their  ministering  angels,  and  given  up  to  liberty  of  sin,— 
And  other  some,  the  miserly  and  mean,  whose  eyes  are  keen  and  greedy, 
With  stony  hearts,  and  iron  fists,  to  filch,  and  scrape,  and  clutch,— 
And  others  yet  again,  the  coarse  in  mind,  selfish,  sensual,  brutish, 
Seeming  as  incapable  of  softer  thoughts,  and  dead  to  better  deeds  ; 
Such,  no  lover  of  the  good,  no  follower  of  the  generous  and  gentle, 
Can  nearer  grow  to  love,  than  may  consist  with  pity. 
Few  verily  are  these  among  the  mass,  and  cast  in  fouler  moulds, 
Few  and  poor  in  friends,  and  well-deserving  of  their  poverty : 
Yet,  or  ever  thou  hast  harshly  judged,  and  linked  their  presence  to  disgust, 
Consider  well  the  thousand  things  that  made  them  all  they  are. 
Thou  hast  not  thought  upon  the  causes,  ranged  in  consecutive  necessity, 
Which  tended  long  to  these  effects,  with  sure  constraining  power. 
For  each  of  those  Unlovely  ones,  if  thou  couldst  hear  his  story, 
7Iath  much  to  urge  of  just  excuse,  at  least  as  men  count  justice : 
Foolish    education,    thwarted    opportunities,    natural    propensities    un- 
checked,— 

Thus  were  they  discouraged  from  all  good,  and  pampered  in  their  evil : 
And  if  thou  wilt  apprehend  them  well,  tenderly  looking  on  temptations, 
Bearing  the  base  indulgently,  and  liberally  dealing  with  the  froward, 
Thou  shall  discern  a  few  fair  fruits  even  upon  trees  so  withered, 
Thou  shalt  understand  how  some  may  praise,  and  some  be  found  to  love 
them. 

Nevertheless  for  these,  my  counsel  is,  Avoid  them  if  thou  canst ; 

For  the  finer  edges  of  thy  virtues  will  be  dulled  by  attrition  with  their 

vice. 

And  there  is  an  enemy  within  thee  ;  either  to  palliate  their  sin, 
Until,  for  surface  sweetness,  thou  too  art  drawn  adown  the  vortex ; 
Or,  even  unto  fatal  pride,  to  glorify  thy  purity  by  contrast, 
Until  the  publican  and  the  harlot  stand  nearer  heaven  than  the  Pharisee : 
Or  daily  strife  against  their  ill,  in  subtleness  may  irritate  thy  soul, 
And  in  that  struggle  thou  shalt  fail,  even  through  infirmity  of  goodness , 
Or,  callous  by  continuance  of  injuries,  thou  wilt  cease  to  pardon, 
Cease  to  feel,  and  cease  to  care,  a  cold  case-hardened  man. 
Beware  of  their  example, — and  thine  own ;  beware  the  hazards  of  the 

battle ; 
But  chiefly  be  thou  ware  of  this,  an  unforgiving  spirit. 


OF  SOCIETY.  233 

Many  are  the  dangers  and  temptations  compassing  a  bad  man's  presence : 
The  upas  hath  a  poisonous  shade,  and  who  would  slumber -there  ? 
Wherefore,  avoid  them  if  thou  canst ;  only,  under  providence  and  duty, 
If  thy  lot  be  cast  with  Kedar,  patiently  and  silently  live  to  their  rebuke. 

How  beautiful  thy  feet,  and  full  of  grace  thy  coming, 
O  better,  kind  companion,  that  art  well  for  either  world ! 
There  is  an  atmosphere  of  happiness  floating  round  that  man, 
Love  is  throned  upon  his  heart,  and  light  is  found  within  his  dwelling, 
His  eyes  are  rayed  with  peacefulness,  and  wisdom  waiteth  on  his  tongue ; 
Seek  him  out,  cherish  him  well,  walking  in  the  halo  of  his  influence  ; 
For  he  shall  be  fragrance  to  thy  soul,  as  a  garden  of  sweet  lilies, 
Hedged  and  apart  frpm  the  outer  world,  an  island  of  the  blest  among  the  seas. 

There  is  an  outer  world,  and  there  is  an  inner  centre ; 
And  many  varying  rings  concentric  round  the  self: 
For,  first,  about  a  man, — after  his  communion  with  heaven, — 
Is  found  the  helpmate  even  as  himself,  the  wife  of  his  vows  and  his  affec- 
tions: 

See  then  that  ye  love  in  faith,  scorning  petty  jealousies, 
For  Satan  spoileth  too  much  love,  by  souring  it  with  doubts  ; 
See  that  intimacy  die  not  to  indifference,  nor  anxiety  sink  into  moroseness, 
And  tend  ye  well  the  mutual  minds  bound  in  a  copartnership  for  life. 

Next  of  those  concentric  circles,  radiating  widely  in  circumference, 

Wheel  in  wheel,  and  world  in  world, — come  the  band  of  children  : 

A  tender  nest  of  soft  young  hearts,  each  to  be  separately  studied, 

A  curious  eager  flock  of  minds,  to  be  severally  tamed  and  tutored. 

And  a  man,  blest  with  these,  hath  made  his  own  society, 

He  is  independent  of  the  world,  hanging  on  his  friends  more  loosely : 

For  the  little  faces  round  his  hearth  are  friends  enow  for  him, 

If  he  seek  others,  it  is  for  the  sake  of  these,  and  less  for  his  own  pleasure. 

What  companionship  so  sweet,  yea,  who  can  teach  so  well        ^  % 

As  these  pure  budding  intellects,  and  bright  unsullied  hearts  ? 

What  voice  so  musical  as  theirs,  what  visions  of  elegance  so  comely, 

What  thoughts  and  hopes  and  holy  prayers,  can  others  cause  like  these  T 

If  ye  count  society  for  pastime, — what  happier  recreation  than  a  nursling, 

Its  winning  ways,  its  prattling  tongue,  its  innocence  and  mirth  ? 

If  ye  count  society  for  good, — how  fair  a  field  is  here, 

To  guide  these  souls  to  God,  and  multiply  thyself  for  heaven ! 


234  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

And  this  sweet  social  commerce  with  thy  children,  groweth  as  theif 

growth, 

Unless  thou  fail  of  duty,  or  have  weaned  them  by  thine  absence. 
Keep  them  near  thee,  rear  them  well,  guide,  correct,  instruct  them : 
And  be  the  playmate  of  their  games,  the  judge  in  their  complainings. 
So  shall  the  maiden  and  the  youth  love  thee  as  their  sympathizing  frienc., 
And  bring  their  joys  to  share  with  thee,  their  sorrows  for  consoling : 
Yea,  their  inmost  hopes  shall  yearn  to  thee  for  counsel, 
They  will  not  hide  their  very  loves  if  thou  hast  won  their  trust ; 
But,  even  as  man  and  woman,  shall  they  gladly  seek  their  father, 
Feeling  yet  as  children  feel,  though  void  of  fear  in  honour  : 
And  thou  shalt  be  a  Nestor  in  the  camp,  the  just  and  good  old  man. 
Hearty  still,  though  full  of  years,  and  held  the  friend  of  all ; 
No  secret  shall  be  kept  from  thee  ;  for  if  ill,  thy  wisdom  may  repair  it ; 
If  well,  thy  praise  is  precious ;  and  they  would  not  miss  that  prize. 
O  the  blessing  of  a  home,  where  old  and  young  mix  kindly, 
The  young  unawed,  the  old  unchilled,  in  unreserved  communion  ! 

0  that  refuge  from  the  world,  when  a  stricken  son  or  daughter 
May  seek,  with  confidence  of  love,  a  father's  hearth  and  heart ! 

Sure  of  a  welcome,  though  others  cast  them  out ;  of  kindness,  though 

men  scorn  them  ; 

And  finding  there  the  last  to  blame,  the  earliest  to  commend. 
Come  unto  me,  my  son,  if  sin  shah1  have  tempted  thee  astray, 

1  will  not  chide  thee  like  the  rest,  but  help  thee  to  return  ; 
Come  unto  me,  my  son,  if  men  rebuke  and  mock  thee, 
There  always  shall  be  one  to  bless, — for  I  am  on  thy  side  ! 

Alas, — and  bitter  is  their  loss,  the  parents  and  the  children, 

Who,  loving  up  and  down  the  world,  have  missed  each  other's  friendsnip. 

Haply,  it  had  grown'  of  careless  life,  for  years  go  swiRly  by ; 

Or  sprang  of  too  much  carefulness,  that  drank  u.p  all  the  streams : 

Haply,  sullen  disappointment  came  and  quenched  the  fire ; 

Haply,  sternness  or  misrule,  crushed  or  warped  the  feelings. 

Then,  ill-combined  in  tempers,  they  learnt  not  each  the  other ; 

The  growing  child  grew  out  of  love,  and  drew  the  breath  of  fear ; 

The  youth  ill-trained  renounced  his  fears,  and  made  a  league  with  cun 

ning; 

And  so  those  hardened  men  were  foes,  that  should  have  been  chief  friends. 
Where  was  the  cause,  the  mutual  cause  !     O  hunt  it  out  to  kill  it : 


OF  SOCIETY.  235 

And  what  the  cure,  the  simple  cure  ? — A  mutual  flash  of  love. 

For  dull  estrangement's  daily  air  froze  up  those  sympathies 

By  cold  continuance  in  apathy,  or  cutting  winds  of  censure ; 

It  was  a  slow  process,  which  any  fleeting  hour  could  have  melted ; 

But  every  hour  duly  came  and  passed  without  the  sun. 

Caution,  care,  and  dry  distrust,  obscured  each  other's  mind, 

Till  both  those  gardens  rich  to  yield,  were  rank  with  many  weeds : 

And  doubt,  a  hidden  worm,  gnawed  at  the  root  of  their  Society,  . 

They  lacked  of  mutual  confidence,  and  lived  in  mutual  dread. 

Judge  me,  many  fathers  ;  and  hearken  to  my  c&unsel,  many  sons  ; 

[  come  with  good  m  either  hand,  to  reconcile  contentions : 

For  better  friends  can  no  man  have,  than  those  whom  God  hath  given, 

And  he  that  hath  despised  the  gift,  thought  ill  of  that  he  knew  not. 

Be  ye  wiser, — (I  speak  unto  the  sons) — and  win  paternal  friendships, 

Cultivate  their  kindness,  seek  them  out  with  honour,  and  be  the  screening 

Japheth  to  their  failings : 

And  be  ye  wiser, — (I  speak  unto  the  fathers,) — gain  those  filial  comrades, 
Cherish  their  reasonable  converse,  and  look  .not  with  coldness  on  your 

children. 
For  the  friendship  of  a  child  is  the  brightest  gem  set  upon  the  circlet  of 

Society, 
A.  jewel  worth  a  world  of  pains, — a  jewel  seldom  seen. 

The  third  cycle  on  the  waters,  another  of  those  rings  upon  the  onyx, 

A.  further  definite  broad  zone,  holdeth  kith  and  kin  ; 

A  motley  band  of  many  tribes,  and  under  various  banners  ; 

The  intimate  and  strangers,  the  known  and  loved,  or  only  seen  for  loath- 
ing: 

Some,  dear  for  their  deserts?  shall  honour  and  have  honour  of  relation- 
ship, • 

Some,  despising  duties,  will  add  to  it  both  burden  and  disgrace. 

A  man's  nearest  kin  are  oftentimes  far  other  than  his  dearest, 

Yet  in  the  season  of  affliction  those  will  haste  to  help  him. 

For,  note  thou  this,  the  providence  of  God  hath  bound  up  families  to- 
gether", '_ 

To  mutual  aid  and  patient  trial ;  yea,  those  ties  are  strong, 

Friends  are  ever  dearer  in  thy  wealth,  but  relations  to  be  trusted  in  thy 
need, 

For  these  we  God's  appointed  way,  and  those  the  choice  of  mas. 


236  PROVEBBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

There  is  lower  warmth  in  the  kin,  but  smaller  truth  in  friends, 
The  latter  show  more  surface,  and  the  first  have  more  of  depth. 
Relations  rally  to  the  rescue,  even  in  estrangement  and  neglect, 
Where  friends  will  have  fled  at  thy  defeat,  even  after  promises  and  kind* 

ness. 

For  friends  come  and  go,  the  whim  that  bound  may  loose  them, 
But  none  can  dissever  a  relationship,  and  Fate  hath  tied  the  knot 

Wide,  and  edged  with  rhadowy  bounds,  a  distant  boulevard  to  the  city, 

The  common  crowd  of  social  life  is  buzzling  round  about ; 

That  is  as  the  outer  court,  with  all  defences  levelled, 

Ranged  around  a  man's  own  fortress,  and  his  father's  house. 

For  many  friends  go  in  and  out,"  and  praise  thee,  finding  pasture, 

And  some  are  honey-comb  to-day,  who  turn  to  gall  to-morrow : 

And  many  a  garrulous  acquaintance  with  frequent  visit 

Will  spend  his  leisure  to  thy  cost,  selling  dullness  dearly  : 

For  the  idle  call  is  a  heavy  tax,  where  time  is  counted  gold, 

And  even  in  the  day  of  relaxation,  haply  he  may  spare  his  presence, — 

He  found  himself  alone,  and  came  to  talk, — till  they  that  hear  are  tired ; 

Let  the  man  bethink  him  of  an  errand,  that  his  face  be  not  unwelcome. 

But  many  friends  there  be,  both  well  and  wisely  greeted, 

Gladly  are  they  hailed  upon  the  hills,  and  are  chidden  that  they  come  so 

seldom. 
Of  snch  are  the  early  recollections,  schoolfriendships  that  have  thriven  to 

gray  hairs, 

And  veteran  men  are  young  once  more,  and  talk  of  boyish  pranks ; 
And  such,  yet  older  on  the  list,  are  those  who  loved  thy  father, 
Thy  father's  friend,  and  thine,  who  tendereth  'thee  tried  love : 
Such  also,  many  gentle  hearts,  whom  thou  hast  known  too  lately, 
Hastening  now  to  learn  their  worth,  and  chary  of  those  minutes  ; 
And  such  thy  faithful  pastor,  coming  to  thy  home  with  peace, — • 
Greet  the  good  man  heartily,- — and  bid  thy  children  bless  him  ! 

Many  thoughts,  many  thoughts, — who  can  catch  them  all  ?  . 

The  best  are  ever  swiftest-winged,  the  duller  lag  behind  ; 
For  behold,  in  these  vast  themes,  my  mind  is  as  a  forest  of  the  West, 
And  flocking  pigeons  come  in  clouds,  and  bend  the  groaning  branches ; 
Here  for  a  restt  tLcn  off  and  away, — they  have  sped  to  other  climes, 


OF  SOLITUDE.  297 

And  leave  me  to  my  peace  once  more,  a  holiday  from  thoughts. 
I  dare  not  lure  them  back,  for  the  mighty  subject  of  Society 
Would  tempt  to  many  a  hackneyed  note  in  many  a  weary  key  :• 
Sage  warmings,  stout  advice,  experiences  ever  to  be  learned, 
The  foolish  floatiness  of  vanity,  and  solemn  trumperies  of  pride,— 
Economy,  the  poor  man's  mint,— extravagance,  the  rich  man's  pitfall,         t 
Harmful  copings  with  the  better,  and  empty-headed  apings  of  the  worse,    | 
Circumstance  and  custom,  sympathies,  antipathies,  diverse  kinds  of  con- 
versation, 

"  Vapid  pleasures,  the  wearines  of  gayety,  the  strife  and  bustle  of  the  world, 
Home  comforts,  the  miseries  of  style,  the  cobweb  lines  of  etiquette, 
The  hollowness  of  courtesies,  and  substance  of  deceits, — idleness,  business, 

and  pastime, — 

The  multitude  of  matters  to  be  done,  the  when,  and  where,  and  how, 
And  varying  shades  of  characters,  to  do,  undo,  or  miss  them,— 
All  these,  and  many  more  alike,  thick  converging  fancies, 
Flit  in  throngs  about  my  theme,  as  honey-bees  at  even  to  their  hive. 
Find  an  end,  or  make  one ;  these  seeds  are  dragon's  teeth : 
Sown  thoughts  grow  to  things,  and  fill  that  field,  the  world ; 
Many  wise  have  gone  before,  and  used  the  sickle  well : 
Who  can  find  a  corner  now,  where  none  have  bound  the  sheaves  ? 
So,  other  some  may  reap :  I  do  but  glean  and  gather : 
My  sorry  handful  hath  been  culled  after  the  ripe  harvest  of  Society. 


OF    SOLITUDE. 

WHO  hath  known  his  brother, — or  found  him  in  his  freedom  unrestrained  ? 
Even  he  whose  hidden  glance  hath  watched  his  deepest  Solitude. 
For  we  walk  the  world  in  domino,  putting  on  characters  and  habits, 
And  wear  a  social  Janus-mask,  while  others  stand  around : 
I  speak  not  of  the  hypocrite,  nor  dream  of  meant  deceptions, 
But  of  that  quick  unconscious  change,  whereof  the  best  know  most 
For  mind  hath  its  influence  on  mind ;  and  no  man  is  free  but  when  alone ; 
Yea,  let  a  dog  be  watching  thee,  its  eye  will  tend  to  thy  restraint 
Self-possession  cannot  be  so  perfect,  with  another  intellect  beside  thee ; 
It  is  not  as  a  natural  result,  but  rather  the  educated  produce. 


238  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

The  presence  of  a  second  spirit  must  control  thine  own, 

And  throw  it  off  its  equipoise  of  peace,  to  balance  by  an  effort. 

The  common  minds  of  common  men  know  of  this  but  little  ; 

What  then  ?  they  know  nothing  of  themselves :  I  speak  to  those  who  know ; 

The  consciousness  that  some  are  hearing,  cometh  as  a  care, 

The  sense  that  some  are  watching  near,  bindeth  thee  to  caution ; 

And  the  tree  of  tender  nerves  shrinketh  as  a  touched  mimosa, 

Drooping  like  a  plant  in  drought,  with  half  its  strength  decayed. 

There  are  antipathies  warning  from  the  many,  and  sympathies  drawing  to 

the  some, 

But  merchant-minds  have  crushed  the  first,  and  cannot  feel  the  latter  : 
Whereas  to  the  quickened  apprehension  of  a  keen  and  spiritual  intellect, 
Antipathies  are  galling,  and  sympathies  oppress,  and  solitude  is  quiet. 

He  that  dwelleth  mainly  by  himself,  heedeth  most  of  others, 

But  they  tliat  live  in  crowds,  tliink  chiefly  of  themselves. 

There  is  indeed  a  selfish  seeming,  where  the  anchorite  liveth  alone, 

But  probe  his  thoughts, — they  travel  far,  dreaming  for  ever  of  the  world : 

And  there  is  an  apparent  generosity  when  a  man  mixeth  freely  with  hia 

fellows, 

But  prove  his  mind,  by  day  and  night,  his  thoughts  are  all  of  self: 
The  world,  inciting  him  to  pleasures,  or  relentlessly  provoking  him  to  toil, 
Is  full  of  anxious  rivals,  each  with  a  difference  of  interest ; 
So  must  he  plan  and  practice  for  himself,  even  as  liis  own  best  friend ; 
And  the  gay  soul  of  dissipation  never  had  a  thought  unselfish. 
The  hermit  standeth  out  of  strife,  abiding  in  a  contemplative  calmness ; 
What  shall  he  contemplate, — himself  ?  a  meagre  theme  for  musing: 
He  hath  cast  off  follies,  and  kept  aloof  from  cares  ;  a  man  of  simple  wants. 
God  and  the  soul,  these  are  his  excuse,  a  just  excuse,  for  solitude : 
But  he  carried  with  him  to  his  cell  the  half-dead  feelings  of  humanity ; 
There  were  they  rested  and  refreshed ;  and  he  yearned  once  more  on  men. 

Where  ia*the  wise,  or  the  learned,  or  the  good,  that  sought  not  solitude 

for  thinking,  . 

And  from  seclusion's  secret  vale  brought  forth  his  precious  fruits  ?— 
Forests  of  Aricia,  your  deep  shade  mellowed  Numa's  wisdom ; 
Peaceful  gardens  of  Vaucluse,  ye  nourished  Petrarch's  love ; 
Solitude  made  a  Cincinnatus,  ripening  the  hero  and  the  patriot, 
And  taught  De  Stael  self-knowledge,  even  in  the  damp  Bastile  ;  (w) 


OF  SOLITUDE.  239 

It  fostered  the  piety  of  Jerome,  matured  the  labours  of  Augustine, 

And  gave  imperial  Charles  religion  for  ambition : 

That  which  Scipio  praised,  that  which  Alfred  practised, 

Which  fired"  Demosthenes  to  eloquence,  and  fed  the  mind  of  Milton, 

Which  quickened  zeal,  nurtured  genius,  found  out  the  secret  things  ol 

science, 

Helped  repentance,  shamed  folly,  and  comforted  the  good  with  peace. 
By  all  men  just  and  wise,  by  all  things  pure  and  perfect, 
How  truly,  Solitude,  art  thou  the  fostering  nurse  of  greatness  ! 

Enough ; — the  theme  is  vast ;  sear  me  these  necks  of  Hydra : 
What  shall  drive  away  the  thoughts  flocking  to  this  carcass  ? 
Yea, — that  all  which  man  may  think,  hath  long  been  said  of  Solitude 
For  many  wise  have  proved  and  preached  its  evils  and  its  good. 
I  cannot  add, — I  will  not  steal ;  enough,  for  all  is  spoken : 
Yet  heed  thou  these  for  practice  and  discernment  among  men. 

There  are  pompous  talkers,  solemn,  oracular,  and  dull : 

Track  them  from  society  to  solitude  ;  and  there  ye  find  them  fools. 

There  are  light-hearted  jesters,  taking  up  with  company  for  pastime ; 

How  speed  they  when  alone  ? — serious,  wise,  and  thoughtful; 

And  wherefore  ?  both  are  actors,  saving  when  hi  solitude, 

There  they  live  their  truest  life,  and  all  things  show  sincere : 

But  the  fool,  by  pomposity  of  speech,  striveth  to  be  counted  wise, 

And  the  wise,  for  holiday  and  pleasance,  playeth  with  the  fool's  best  bauble; 

The  solemn  seemer,  as  a  rule,  will  be  found  more  ignorant  and  shallow 

Than  those  who  laugh  both  loud  and  long,  content  to  bide  their  knowledge. 

For  thee ;  seek  thou  Solitude,  but  neither  in  excess,  nor  morosely ; 

Seek  her  for  her  precious  things,  and  not  of  thine  own  pride. 

For  there,  .separate  from  a  crowd,  the  still  small  voice  will  talk  with  thee, 

Truth's  whisper,  heard  and  echoed  by  responding  conscience ; 

There,  shalt  thou  gather  up  the  ravelled  skeins  of  feeling, 

And  mend  the  nets  of  usefulness,  and  rest  awhile  for  duties ; 

There,  shalt  thou  hive  thy  lore,  and  eat  the  fruits  of  study, 

For  Solitude  delighteth  well  to  feed  on  many  thoughts ; 

There,  as  thou  sittest  peaceful,  communing  with  fancy, 

The  precious  poetry  of  life  shall  gild  its  leaden  cares ; 

There,  as  thou  walkest  by  the  sea.  beneath  the  gentle  stars, 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

Many  kindling  seeds  of  good  will  sprout  within  thy  soul ; 

Thou  shalt  weep  in  Solitude, — thou  shalt  pray  in  Solitude, 

Thou  shall  sing  for  joy  of  heart,  and  praise  the  grace  of  Solitude. 

Pass  on,  pass  on ! — for  this  is  the  path  of  Wisdom : 

God  make  thee  prosper  on  the  way :  I  leave  thee  well  with  Solitude. 


TH"E   END. 

EVERY  beginning  is  shrouded  in  a  mist,  those  vague  ideas  beyond, 
And  the  traveller  setteth  on  his  journey,  oppressed  with  many  thoughts, 
Balancing  his  hopes  and  fears,  and  looking  for  some  order  in  the  chaos, 
Some  secret  path  between  the  cliffs,  that  seem  to  bar  his  way  : 
So,  he  commenceth  at  a  clue,  unravelling  its  tangled  skein, 
And  boldly  speedeth  on  to  thread  the  labyrinth  before  him. 
Then  as  he  gropeth  in  the  darkness,  light  is  attendant  on  his  steps, 
He  walketh  straight  in  fervent  faith,  and  difficulties  vanish  at  his  presence ; 
The  very  flashing  of  his  sword  scatters  th  those  shadowy  foes ; 
Confident  and  sanguine  of  success,  he  goeth  forth  conquering  and  to  con- 
quer. 

Every  middle  is  burdened  with  a  weariness, — to  have  to  go  as  far  again,—* 

And  Diligence  is  sick  at  heart,  and  Enterprise  foot-sore  : 

That  which  began  in  zeal,  bursting  as  a  fresh-dug  spring, 

Goeth  on  doggedly  in  toil,  and  hath  no  help  of  nature  : 

Then,  is  need  of  moral  might,  to  wrestle  with  the  animal  reaction. 

Still  to  fight,  with  few  men  left,  and  still,  though  faint,  pursuing. 

The  middle  is  a  marshy  flat,  whereon  the  wheels  go  heavily, 

With  clouds  of  doubt  above,  and  ruts  of  discouragement  below : 

Press  on,  sturdy  traveller,  yet  a  league,  and  yet  a  league  ! 

While  every  step  is  binding  wings  on  thy  victorious  feet. 

Every  end  is  happiness,  the  glorious  consummation  of  design, 
The  perils  past,  the  fears  annulled,  the  journey  at  its  close : 
And  the  traveller  resteth  in  complacency,  home-returned  at  last : 
Work  done  may  claim  it*  wages,  the  goal  gained  hath  won  its  prize. 


THE  END.  341 

While  the  labour  lasted,  while  the  race  was  running, 

Many  times  the  sinews  ached,  and  half  refused  the  struggle ; 

But  now,  all  is  quietness,  a  pleasant  hour  given  to  repose ; 

Calmness  in  the  retrospect  of  good,  and  calmness  in  the  prospect  of  a  blese- 

ing. 

Hope  was  glad  in  the  beginning,  and  fear  was  sad  midway, 
But  sweet  fruition  cometh  in  the  end,  a  harvest  safe  and  sure. 
That  which  is,  can  never  not  have  been :  facts  are  solid  as  the  pyramids : 
A.  thing  done  is  written  in  the  rock,  yea,  with  a  pen  of  iron. 
Uncertainty  no  more  can  scare,  the  proof  is  seen  complete, 
Nor  accident  render  unaccomplished,  for  the  deed  is  finished. 
Thus  the  end  shall  crown  the  work,  with  grace,  grace,  unto  the  topstone, 
And  the  work  shall  triumph  in  its  crown,  with  peace,  peace,  unto  the 

builder. 

I  have  written,  as  other  some  of  old,  hi  anaint  and  meaning  phrase, 
Of  many  things  for  either  world,  a  crowd  of  facts  and  fancies  : 
And  will  ye  judge  me,  men  of  mind  ? — judge  in  kindly  calmness ; 
For  bitter  words  of  haste  or  hate  nave  often  been  repented. 
Deep  dreaming  upon  surface  reacting  5  imagery  crowded  over  argument } 
Order  less  considered  hi  the  multitude  of  thoughts  ;  this  witnessing  is  just. 
Scripture  gave  the  holier  themes,  the  well-turned  words  and  wisdom  ; 
While  Fancy  on  her  swallow's  wing  skimmed  those  deeper  waters. 
And  wilt  thou  say  with  shrewdness, — He  hath  burnished  up  old  truths, 
But  where  he  seemed  to  fashion  new,  the  novelty  was  false  ? 
Alas,  for  us  in  these  last  days,  our  elders  reaped  the  harvest ; 
Alas,  for  all  men  in  all  times,  who  glean  so  many  tares  ! 
That  which  is  true,  how  should  it  be  new  ?  for  time  is  old  in  years : 
That  which  is  new,  how-  should  it  be  true  ?  for  I  am  young  in  wisdom. 
. 

Nevertheless,  I  have  spoken  at  my  best,  according  to  the  mercies  given  me, 
Of  high,  and  deep,  and  famous  things,  of  Evil,  or  of  Good.  (**) 
I  have  told  of  Errors  near  akin  to  Truth,  and  wholesomes  linked  with 
*  poison ; 

Of  subtle  Uses  in  the  humblest,  and  the  deep-laid  plots  of  Pride : 
I  have  praised  Wisdom,  comforted  thy  Hope,  and  proved  to  thee  the  folly 

of  complainings ; 
Hinted  at  the  hazard  of  an  influence,  and  turned  thee  from  the  terrors  of 

Ambition. 

11 


843  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

1  have  shown  thee  thy  captivity  to  Law ;  yet  bade  thee  hide  Humilities ; 
I  have  lifted  the  curtains  of  Memory ;  and  smoothed  the  soft  pillow  of 

Rest. 

Experience  had  his  sober  hour ;  and  Character  its  keen  appreciation ; 
And  holy  Anger  stood  sublime,  where  Hatred  fell  condemned. 
Prayer  spake  the  mind  of  God,  even  in  his  own  good  words  ; 
And  Zeal,  with  kindness  warmly  mixt,  allied  him  to  Discretion. 
I  taught  thee  that  nothing  is  a  Trifle,  even  to  the  laugh  of  Recreation : 
I  led  thee  with  the  Train  of  Religion,  to  be  dazzled  at  the  name  of  the 

Triune. 

Thought  confessed  his  unseen  fears  ;  and  Speech  declared  his  triumphs ; 
I  sang  the  blessedness  of  books ;  and  commended  the  prudence  of  a  letter ; 
Riches  found  their  room,  either  unto  honour — or  despising  ; 
Inventions  took  their  lower  place,  for  all  things  come  of  God. 
I  scorned  Ridicule ;  nor  would  humble  me  for  Praise ;  for  I  had  gained 

Self-knowledge ; 

And  pleaded  fervently  for  Brutes,  who  suffer  for  man's  sin. 
Then,  I  rose  to  Friendship ;  and  bathed  in  all  the  tenderness  of  Love ; 
Knew  the  purity  of  Marriage :  and  blessed  the  face  of  Children. 
And  whereas  -by  petulance  or  pride,  I  had  haply  said  some  evil, 
Mine  after-thought  was  Tolerance,  to  bear  the  faults  of  all : 
Many  faults,  ill  to  hear,  bred  the  theme  of  Sorrow ; 
Many  virtues,  dear  to  see,  induced  the  gush  of  Joy. 

Thus,  for  a  while,  as  leaving  thee  in  joy,  was  I  loth  to  break  that  spell ; 
I  roamed  to  other  things  and  thoughts,  and  fashioned  other  books. 
But  in  a  season  of  reflection,  after  many  days, 
A  thought  stood  before  me  in  its  garment  of  the  past, — and  lo,  a  legion 

with  it ! 

They  came  in  thronging  bands, — I  could  not  fight  nor  fly  them,— 
And  so  they  took  me  to  their  tent,  the  prisoner  of  thoughts. 

Then,  I  bade  thee  greet  me  well,  and  heed  my  cheerful  counsels ; 
For  every  day  we  have  a  Friend,  who  changeth  not  with  time. 
Gladly  did  I  speak  of  my  commission,  for  I  felt  it  graven  on  my  heart, 
And  could  not  hold  my  wiser  peace,  but  magnified  mine  office. 
Mystery  had  left  her  echoes  hi  my  mind,  and  I  discoursed  her  secret : 
And  thence  I  turned  aside  to  Man,  and  judged  him  for  his  Gifts. 
Beauty,  noble  thesis,  had  a  world  of  sweets  to  sing  of, 


THE  END.  S43 

And  dated  all  her  praise  from  God,  the  birthday  of  the  soul. 

Thence  grew  Fame ;  and  Flattery  came  like  Agag ; 

But  this  was  as  the  nauseous  dregs  of  that  inspiring  cup : 

Forth  from  Flattery  sprang  in  opposition  harsh  and  dull  Neglect : 

And  kind  Contentment's  gentle  face  to  smile  away  the  sadness. 

Life,  all  buoyancy  and  light,  and  Death,  that  sullen  silence, 

Sped  the  soul  to  Immortality,  the  final  home  of  man. 

Then,  in  metaphysical  review,  passed  a  triple  troop, 

Swift  Ideas,  sounding  Names,  and  heavily  armed  Things ; 

Faith  spake  of  her  achievements  even  among  men  her  brethren ; 

And  Honesty,  with  open  mouth,  would  vindicate  himself: 

The  retrospect  of  social  life  had  many  truths  to  tell  of, 

And  then  I  left  thee  to  thy  Solitude,  learning  there  of  Wisdom. 

Friend  and  scholar,  lover  of  the  right,  mine  equal  kind  companion,— 
I  prize  indeed  thy  favour,  and  these  sympathies  are  dear : 
Still,  if  thy  heart  be  little  with  me,  wotthou  well,  my  brother, 
I  canvass  not  the  smile  of  praise,  nor  dread  the  frowns  of  censure. 
Through  many  themes  in  many  thoughts,  have  we  held  sweet  converse ; 
But  God  alone  be  praised  for  minu  J  lie  only  is  sufficient. 
And  every  thought  in  every  theme  by  prayer  had  been  established : 
Who  then  should  fear  the  face  of  man,  when  God  hath  answered 

prayer  ? 

I  speak  it  not  hi  arrogance  of  heart,  but  humbly,  as  of  justice, 
I  think  it  not  in  vanity  of  soul,  but  tenderly,  for  gratitude, — 
God  hath  blessed  my  mind,  and  taught  it  many  truths  ; 
And  I  have  echoed  some  to  thee,  in  weakness,  yet  sincerely : 
Yea,  though  ignorance  and  error  shall  have  marred  those  lessons  of  Hifl 

teaching, 

I  stand  in  mine  own  Master's  praise,  or  fall  to  His  reproof. 
If  thou  lovest,  help  me  with  thy  blessing ;  if  otherwise,  mine  shall  be  for 

thee; 

If  thou  approvest,  heed  my  words :  if  otherwise,  in  kindness  be  my  teacher 
Many  mingled  thoughts  for  self  have  warped  my  better  aim, 
Many  motives  tempted  still,  to  toil  for  pride  or  praise : 
Alas,  I  have  loved  pride  and  praise,  like  others  worse  or  worthier ; 
But  hate  and  fear  them  now,  as  snakes  that  fasten  on  my  hand  : 
Swevola  burnt  both  hand  and  crime :  but  Paul  flung  the  viper  on  the 

fire: 


M«  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

lie  shook  it  off*,  and  felt  no  harm :  so  be  it ! — I  renounce  them. 
Rebuke  then,  if  thou  wilt  rebuke, — but  neither  hastily  nor  harshly ; 
Or,  if  thou  wilt  commend,  be  it  honestly,  of  right ;  I  work  for  God  and 
good. 


NOTES. 

V   ^SECOND    SERIES.) 

(')  "Hunt  with  Aureng-zele,"  <fa.    Page  130. 

The  great  Mogulj  who  reigned  in  the  seventeenth  century  ;  and  was  fa- 
mous, amongst  other  things,  for  having  all  but  exterminated  wild  beasts  from 
the  region  of  Hindoostan :  he  effected  this  by  surrounding  the  whole  country 
with  his  army,  and  then  drawing  to  a  focus  with  the  animals  in  the  centre. 
Somerville,  In  the  end  of  Book  II.  of  the  Chase,  gives  a  spirited  account  of  that 
mighty  hunting : 

"  Now  the  loud  trumpet  sounds  a  charge.     The  shouts 
Of  eager  hosts,  through  all  the  circling  line, 
And  the  wild  bowlings  of  the  beasts  within 
Rend  wide  the  welkin  :  flights  of  arrows,  winged 
With  death,  and  javelins  launched  from  every  arm, 
Gall  sore  the  brutal  bands,  with  many  a  wound 
Gored  through  and  through." 

(2)  Page  131. 

Heraclitus,  and  Democritus,  are  severally  known  as  tfie  crying  and  laughing 
philosophers :  they  typify  opposite  kinds  of  seekers  after  wisdom :  both  being 
prejudiced  by  excess.  Our  age  of  the  world  seems  to  have  fallen  upon  the 
latter,  which,  with  a  protest  against  abuse,  is  certainly  the  wiser  of  the  two. 
"  The  house  of  mourning  is  better  than  the  house  of  feasting,"  for  this  influence, 
along  with  others  of  more  weight,  viz.,  that  it  tends  to  a  cheerful  and  calm 
reaction,  rather  than  to  feelings  of  dullness  and  satiety.  A  few  lines  further, 
"the  luxury  of  Capuan  holidays,"  alludes  to  Hannibal's  fatal  rest  after  the  battle 
of  Camwe. 

(3)  Revelation  xxi.  8.     Page  132. 

"  But  the  fearful,  and  the  unbelieving,  and  the  abominable,  and  murderers, 
i»nd  whoremongers,  and  sorcerers,  and  idolaters,  and  all  liars,  shall  have  theii 
part  in  the  lake  that  burneth  with  fire." 


246  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

(4)  "Deucalion  flinging  back  the  pebble  in  his  flight"  <fa.     Page  138. 
Descendunt ;  velantque  caput,  tunicasque  recingunt ; 
Et  jussos  lapides  sua  post  vestigia  mittunt. 
Saxa  (quis  hoc  credat,  nisi  sit  pro  teste  vetustas  1) 
Ponere  duritiem  ccepere,  suumque  rigorem :  &c.  &.c. 
In-que  brevi  spatio,  superorum  munere,  saxa 
Missa  viri  manibus  faciem  trax6re  virilem. 

Ovid  Met.  lib.  i. 

(5)  "Copan  and  Paknque,"  <fc.     Page  143, 

The  remains  of  these  ancient  cities,  buried  in  the  forests  of  Central  America, 
have  been  recently  made  known  to  our  wonder  in  the  entertaining  travels  of 
Mr.  J.  L.  Stephens.  A  brief  and  apt  quotation,  to  illustrate  the  line,  occurs  in 
vol.  i.  p.  103.  "  *  *  Some  fragments  with  most  elegant  designs,  and  some 
in  workmanship  equal  lo  the  finest  monuments  of  the  Egyptians  ;  one,  displaced 
from  its  pedestal  by  enormous  roots  ;  another  locked  in  the  close  embrace  of 
branches  of  trees,  and  almost  lifted  out  of  the  earth;  another,  hurled  to  the 
ground,  and  bound  down  by  huge  vines  and  creepers ;  and  one  standing,  with 
its  altar  before  it,  in  a  grove  of  trees  which  grew  around,  seemingly  to  shade 
and  shroud  it,  as  a  sacred  thing  in  the  solemn  stillness  of  the  woods,  it  seemed 
a  divinity  mourning  over  a  fallen  people." 

(•)  Page  161. 

Corinna,  a  Theban  lady,  was  once  adjudged  to  have  overcome  in  verse  her 
countryman,  the  deep-mouthed  Pindar ;  but  she  is  credibly  believed  to  have 
owed  her  success  in  a  great  measure  to  her  beauty.  Phryne,  (not  the  too-cele- 
brated courtezan  of  Athens,  but  a  Phryne  of  fairer  fame,)  is  mentioned  as  hav- 
ing been  accused,  like  Socrates,  of  impiety  against  heathenism,  and  like  him 
condemned  to  die  ;  however,  the  fairer  witness  of  truth  was  fortunate  enough 
to  escape  martyrdom  by  unveiling  her  bosom  to  the  judges,  and  thereby  influ- 
encing their  sentence.  Quintilian,  Oral.  lib.  ii.  c.  15,  has  this  passage  to  our 
purpose.  "  Et  Phrynen  *  *  *  conspectu  corporis,  quod  ilia,  speciosissimum 
alioqui,  diducta  undaveret  tunica,  putant  periculo  liberatam."  Athenreus,  xiii. 
590,  tells  us  that  it  was  by  the  address  and  counsel  of  Hyperides,  her  advocate, 

that   irpoayaycoi/    avrtiv  its  TOVjKJiavi;,  xal  irtfifjiri^at    TOVS  j^irtiivittKovs,  yvpva.    re    rci 

arifva  irotnaas,  he  influenced  the  judges  of  the  Areopagus  to  acquit  her.     "  Ionian 
Myrrha  "  is  a  character  finely  drawn  by  Byron  in  his  tragedy  of  Sardanapalus. 

(T)  "Some  Nireus  of  the  camp"  dye.     Page- 163. 

Homer  disposes  very  summarily  of  a  personage  wh*o  has  nothing  to  recom- 
mend him  but  his  beauty.  Nireus  is  mentioned  only  in  one  passage  of  tha 


NOTES.  347 

Iliad :  lib.  ;i.  673.  Ntptej,  5s  «<iAA«rrof  dvtjp,  &c.  •  and  it  is  significantly  added, 
'AAV  dXavafodf  Inv :  an  epithet  of  double  intention,  powerless  in  troops,  and  im- 
becile in  mind. 

(8)  1  Esdras  iv.  13,  el  seq.     Page  165. 

Zorobabel  holds  argument  before  Darius,  that  "  Woman  is  more  powerful 
than  wine  or  the  king,  but  that  Truth  beareth  off  the  victory  from  woman." 
He  sets  up  beauty  above  all  earthly  -things,  v.  32,  "  O  ye  men,  how  can  it  be 
but  women  should  be  strong,  seeing  they  do  thus  ?"  and  it  is  small  disparage- 
ment, that  Truth  should  overcome  her ;  for  "  Great  is  truth,  and  mighty  above 
all  things."  v.  41. 

(')  Ezekiel  xxviii.  12.     Page  166. 

"  Thou  sealest  up  the  sum,"  (otherwise  to  be  rendered,  "  Thou  art  the  stan- 

•  dard  of  measures,")  "  full  of  wisdom,  and  perfect  in  beauty."     It  is  quite  fair, 

and  according  to  scriptural  usage,  (compare  Hosea  xi.  1,  with  Matt.  ii.  15,)  to 

take  such  a  passage  as  this  out  of  its  context,  as  primarily  referable  to  a  King 

of  Tyrus,  but  in  a  higher  sense  applicable  to  the  King  of  Heaven. 

('«)  Page  167.  * 

Era tostratus  fired  the  temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus,  solely  to  make  himself  a 
name :  the  incendiary  certainly  succeeded,  for  he  has  come  down  to  our  times 
famous  (if  in  no  other  way)  at  least  for  his  criminal  and  foolish  love  of  notoriety. 
Pythagoras  induced  the  vulgar  to  believe  in  his  supernatural  qualifications,  by 
immuring  himself  in  a  cavernous  pit  for  months,  whence  returning  with  a 
ghastly  aspect,  he  gave  oul  that  he  had  been  a  visiter  in  Hades.  As  for  Empe- 
docles,  few  cannot  have  heard,  that  he  leaped  into  jEtna  to  make  the  world 
imagine  that  he  had  vanished  from  its  surface  as  a  god  :  unlucffly,  however, 
the  volcano  disgorged  one  of  the  philosopher's  sandals,  and  proved  at  once  the 
manner  of  his  death,  and  the  quality  of  his  mind ;  ex  pede  Herculem. 

(u)  "Cesar's  wife."    Page  163. 

Pompeia,  third  wife  of  Julius  CaBsar,  and  divorced  from  him,  according  to 
Plutarch,  solely  because  "  he  would  have  the  chastity  of  Cajsar's  wife  free  even 
from  suspicion." 

(")  Page  170. 

Momus,  a  typification  of  the  force  of  ridicule,  was  once  counted  among  the 
.lierarchs  of  heathen  mythology  :  but,  as  he  made  game  of  every  one,  he  never 
found  a  friend ;  and  when  at  length,  in  a  gush  of  hypercriticism,  ne  presumed 


248  PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 

to  censure  the  peerless  Mother  of  Beauty  for  awkwardness  in  walking,  the  en- 
raged celestials  flung  him  from  their  sphere,  and  sent  the  fallen  spirit  down  to 
men. 

(")  1  Kings  vii.  21.     Page  184. 

"  He  set  the  pillars  in  the  porch  of  the  temple  ;  and  h«  set  up  the  right 
pillar,  and  called  the  name  thereof  Jachin  [He  shall  establish] :  and  he  set  up 
the  left  pillar ;  and  called  the  name  thereof  Boaz  [in  it  is  strength] :  and  upuu 
the  top  of  the  pillars  was  lily- work." 

(")  Page  185. 

An  application  of  the  story  of  Curtius,  (as  given  by  Livy,  lib.  vii.  6,)  who 
leaped  into  a  gulf,  in  the  forum,  because  the  Auruspices  had  declared  that  it 
should  never  close  until  the  most  precious  thing  in  Rome,  "  the  strength  of  the 
city,"  had  been  flung  into  it.  We  are  told  that  "  equo,  qnam  poterat  maximb 
ornato,  insidentem,  armatum  se  in  specum  immisisse." 

(|S)  Page  186. 

To  drink  with  the  throat  of  Crassus,  may  well  be  thonght  to  have  passed 
into  a  proverb  for  inordinat%  lust  of  wealth  :  for  Orodes  the  Parthian,  having 
overthrown  him  in  battle,  cut  off"  his  head,  and  then,  to  satirize  the  insatiable 
nature  of  his  avarice,  poured  melted  gold  down  his  throat  The  evil  dreams  of 
Midas  are  as  famous  as  his  other  well-earned  punishments  ;  and  we  are  told 
that  he  died,  in  consequence  of  taking  too  violent  a  remedy  for  delivering  him- 
self from  those  nightly  torments. 

(l6)  Page  194. 

Mr.  Willis,  in  "Pencillings  by  the  Way,"  vol.  i.  p.  115,  gives  a  graphic 
account  of  %e  public  burial-ground  of  Naples.  *  *  *  "  There  are  three 
hundred  and  sixty-five  pits  in  this  place,  one  of  which  is  opened  every  day  for 
the  dead  of  the  city.  They  are  thrown  in  without  shroud  or  coffin,  and  the 
pit  sealed  up  at  night  for  a  year."  *  *  "  And  thus  are  flung  into  this  noi- 
some pit,  like  beasts,  the  greater  part  of  the  population  of  this  vast  city,- — the 
young  and  old,  the  vicious  and  the  virtuous  together,  without  the  decency 
even  of  a  rag  to  keep  up  the  distinctions  of  life  !  Can  human  beings  thus  be 
thrown  away  ?  men  like  ourselves,  women,  children,  like  our  sisters  and  bro-  ' 
there  ?  I  never  was  so  humiliated  in  my  life  as  by  this  horrid  spectacle.  I  did 
not  think  a  man — a  felon  even,  or  a  leper, — what  you  will,  that  is  guilty  or 
debased, — I  did  not  think  any  thing  that  had  been  human  could  be  so  recklessly 
abandoned.  Pah  !  It  makes  one  sick  at  heart !  God  grant  I  may  never  die 
at  Naples !" 

Truly  this  would  seem  to  spoil  the  proverb,  Vedi  Napoli,  poi  mori. 


•  ^  KOTES.  149 

(l7)  Page  195. 

Sophocles  lived  to  be  nearly  a  hundred  years  old :  and  to  typify  the  perpe  tua 
feme  of  their  "  sweet  Attic  bee,"  the  Athenians  used  to  decorate  his  tomb  wife 
festoons  of  flowering  ivy. 

('»)  Page  196.  ( 

Mr.  Catlin,  in  his  interesting  work  on  the  North  American  tribes,  voL  ii.  f 
10,  alludes  to  "  the  usual  mode  of  the  Omahas,  of  depositing  their  dead  in  th 
crotches,  and  on  the  branches  of  trees,  enveloped  in  skins,"  &,c. 

•        .    •  i 

(")  "Hemmed  in  by  hostile  foes,  the  trifler  is  busied  on  an  epigram. 

Page  212. 

Even  in  matters  temporal,  a  literal  instance  of  this  occurs  in  the  history  *1 
Frederick  the  Great  of  Prussia,  who,  during  the  mortal  struggles  of  tho  «e*e 
years'  war,  frequently  occupied  the  eve  before  a  battle  in  the  studious  oempo 
eition  of  profane  jests,  and  bad  poetry. 

(«°)  "Nine  Homers,"  $c.    Page  218. 

It  is  true  that  seven  of  these  have  so  perished  from  memory,  that  we  know 
nothing  of  their  works ;  we  only  know  they  lived :  an  eighth,  however,*he  of 
Hierapolis  and  one  of  the  poetic  Pleiades  of  the  age  of  Philadelphus,  is  reported 
to  have  written  no  lees  than  five-and-forty  plays. 

Musaeus,  a  little  lower  down,  is  Virgil's  tall  prophet  in  the  Elysian  fieldi, 
mjntioned  JEn.  vi.  667. 

.  "  Musaeum  ante  omnes  ;  medium  nam  plnrima  turba 

Hunc  habet,  atque  humeris  extantem  suspicit  altis." 

(S1)  "Sons  of  Maltathias,"  <Sft.    Page  221. 

John,  Simon,  Judas,  Eleazar,  and  Jonathan,  who  liberated  Israel  frowi  the 
domination  of  the  Greeks,  about  B.  c.  160  ;  and  who  were  known  by  the  gene- 
ral name  of  the  Maccabees,  from  the  initial  Hebrew  letters  of  the  fine  four 
words  from  Ex.  xv.  11,  being  inscribed  on  their  standard. 

\ 

(")  "The  word  for  loth  is  one,"  <£c.  Page  225. 
ITIOTIJ,  a  derivative  from  TrdBopat,  will  almost  as  readily  bear  the  sense  of 
obedience,  as  of  persuasion,  and  of  credence.  I  know  not  whether  a  similar 
latent  sympathy  may  be  thought  to  exist  between  our  own  old-  English  word 
"  faith,"  and  the  Norman  "  fait,"  factum,  a  deed :  at  any  rate,  the  coincidence 
ifl  worth  a  passing  notice. 

U» 

t 


PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY. 


(«)  «0rjj  Jiaj  been  wise  for  winking."    Page  229. 
The  poet  Ovid  was  exiled  for  life  to  the  shores  of  the  Black  Sea  for  haying 
seen,  and  indiscreetly  divulged,  some  intrigue  in  the  family  of  Augustus.     He 
complains  frequently  o  this  hard  lot  ;  for  example, 

u  Inscia  quod  crimen  viderunt  lumina  plector, 
Peccatumque  oculos  est  habuisse  rneum." 

But  he  might  with  greater  justice  have  accused  his  tongue  than  his  eyes. 

(")  Page  238. 

Madame  de  Stafil  somewhere  uses  these  words  :  "  To  enjoy  ourselves,  we 
must  seek  solitude.  It  was  in  the  Bastile  that  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
myself." 

Scipio  is  reported  to  have  originated  the  popular  sayings,  "  I  am  never  less 
idle  than  when  I  have  most  leisure."  and  "  I  am  never  less  alone  than  when 
alone." 

The  Emperor  G'larisa  V.,  with  the  example  of  Diootaian  before  him,  re- 
signed his  crown,  and  retired  from  the  world  to  the  monastery  of  St.  Just,  at 
Plazencia,  in  Spain  :  where,  as  Robertson  says,  "  he  our  Jed  in  solitude  and 
fcilence  his  grandeur  and  his  ambition." 

("»)  Page  241. 

It  may  be  necessary  to  acquaint  the  reader  that  this  section  takes  a  retro- 
spective glance  at  my  former  series  of  subjects  treated  in  the  proverbial  style 
•  brief  recapitulation  of  the  present  series  follows,  finishing  the  work. 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 


PROLOGUE. 

MY  heart  presents  her  gift ;  in  turn,  of  theo 

I  ask  a  little  time,  an  idle  hour, 
Kindly  to  spend  with  these  my  thoughts  and  me, 

Wooing  the  fragrance  of  the  Muses'  bower ; 
Not  without  name  or  note,  yet  nameless  now 

As  one  devoid  of  fame  and  skill  and  power, 

Bearing  no  charge  upon  mine  argent  shield, 
A  candidate  unknown  with  vizored  brow, 

Full  of  young  hopes  I  dare  the  tented  field  !— 
Not  so : — this  is  no  time  for  measuring  swords ; 

Thou  art  no  craven  though  thy  spirit  yield, 
For  yonder  are  fair  looks  and  friendly  words : 

Choose  a  more  peaceful  image : — here,  reveai'd 
Shines  a  small  sample  of  my  gcuden  hoards. 


254  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 


SLOTH. 

"A  LITTLE  more  sleep,  a  little  more  slumber, 

A  little  more  folding  the  hands  to  sleep," 
For  quick-footed  dreams,  without  order  or  number, 

Over  my  mind  are  beginning  to  creep,— 
Rare  is  the  happiness  thus  to  be  raptured 

By  your  wild  whispers,  my  Fanciful  train, 
And,  like  a  linnet,  be  carelessly  captured 

In  the  soft  nets  of  my  beautiful  brain ! 

Touch  not  these  curtains  ! — your  hand  will  be  tearing 

Delicate  tissues  of  thoughts  and  of  things  ; — 
Call  me  not ! — your  cruel  voice  will  be  scaring 

Flocks  of  young  visions  on  gossamer  wings : 
Leave  me,  O  leave  me, — for  in  your  rude  presence 

Nothing  of  all  my  bright  world  can  remain, — 
Thou  art  a  blight  to  this  garden  of  pleasance, 

Thou  art  a  blot  on  my  beautiful  brain  ! 

Cease  your  dull  lecture  on  cares  and  employment, 

Let  me  forget  awhile  trouble  and  strife, 
Leave  me  to  peace, — let  me  husband  enjoyment,— 

This  is  the  heart  and  the  marrow  of  life ! 
For  to  my  feeling  the  choicest  of  pleasures 

Is  to  lie  thus,  without  peril  or  pain, 
Lazily  listening  the  musical  measures 

Of  the  sweet  voice  in  my  beautiful  brain ! 

Hush, — for  the  halo  of  calmness  is  spreading  • 

Over  my  spirit,  as  mild  as  a  dove ; 
Hush, — for  the  angel  of  comfort  is  shedding 

Over  my  body  his  vial  of  love ; 
Hush, — for  new  slumbers  are  over  me  stealing, 

Thus  would  I  court  them  again  and  again, 
Hush, — for  my  heart  is  intoxicate, — reeling 

In  the  swift  waltz  of  my  beautiful  brain  ! 


ACTIVITY.  255 


ACTIVITY. 

OPEN  the  casement,  and  up  with  the  Sun ! 

His  gallant  journey  is  just  begun ; 

Over  the  hills  his  chariot  is  roll'd, 

Banner'd  with  glory,  and  burnish'd  with  gold, — 

Over  the  hills  he  comes  sublime, 

Bridegroom  of  Earth,  and  brother  of  Time ! 

Day  hath  broken,  joyous  and  fair ; 

Fragrant  and  fresh  is  the  morning  air, — 

Beauteous  and  bright  those  orient  hues, 

Balmy  and  sweet  these  early  dews ; 

O,  there  is  health,  and  wealth,  and  bliss 

In  dawning  Nature's  motherly  kiss  !  » 

Lo,  the  wondering  world  awakes, 

With  its  rosy-tipp'd  mountains  and  gleaming  lakes* 

With  its  fields  and  cities,  deserts  and  trees, 

Its  calm  old  cliffs,  and  its  sounding  seas, 

In  all  their  gratitude  blessing  HIM 

Who  dwelleth  between  the  Cherubim ! 

Break  away  boldly  from  Sleep's  leaden  chain  j 

Seek  not  to  forge  that  fetter  again ; 

Rather,  with  vigour  and  resolute  nerve, 

Up,  up,  to  bless  man,  and  thy  Master  to  serve, 

Thankful  and  hopeful,  and  happy  to  raise 

The  offering  of  prayer,  and  the  incense  of  praise ! 

Gird  thee,  and  do  thy  watching  well, 

Duty's  Christian  sentinel ! 

Sloth  and  Slumber  never  had  part 

In  the  warrior's  will,  or  the  patriot's  heart ; 

Soldier  of  God  on  an  enemy's  shore  ! 

Slumber  and  sloth  thrall  thee  no  more. 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 


ADVENTURE. 

How  gladly  would  I  wander  through  some  strange  and  savage  land, 

The  lasso  at  my  saddle  bow,  the  rifle  in  my  hand, 

A  leash  of  gallant  mastiffs  bounding  by  my  side, 

And  for  a  friend  to  love,  the  noble  horse  on  which  I  ride  1 

Alone,  alone — vet  not  alone,  for  God  is  with  me  there, 
The  tender  hand  of  Providence  shall  guide  me  every  whew, 
While  happy  thoughts  and  holy  hopes,  as  spirits  calm  and  mild, 
Shall  fan  with  their  sweet  wings  the  hermit-hunter  of  the  wiJd ! 

Without  a  guide, — yet  guided  well, — young,  buoyant,  fresh  and  free 
Without  a  road, — yet  all  the  land  a  highway  unto  me, — 
Without  a  care,  without  a  fear,  without  a  grief  or  pain, 
Exultingly  I  thread  the  woods,  or  gallop  o'er  the  plain ! 

Or,  brushing  tnrough  tne  copse,  from  his  leafy  home  I  stars 
.  The  stately  elk,  or  tusky  boar,  the  bison,  or  the  hart, 
And  then, — with  eager  spur,  to  scour  away,  away, 
Nor  stop, — until  my  dogs  have  brought  the  glorious  brute  to  bay. 

Or,  if  die  gang  of  hungry  wolves  come  yelling  on  my  track, 
I  make  my  ready  rifle  speak,  and  scare  the  cowards  back ; 
Or,  if  the  lurking  leopard's  eyes  among  the  branches  shine, 
A  touch  upon  the  trigger — and  his  spotted  skin  is  mine ! 

And  then  the  hunter's  savoury  fare  at  tranquil  eventMs<— » 
The  dappled  deer  I  shot  to-day  upon  the  green  hillside ; 
My  feasted  hounds  are  slumbering  round  beside  the  water-course, 
And  plenty  of  sweet  prairie-grass  for  thee,  my  noble  horse. 

Hist !  hist !  I  heard  some  prowler  snarling  in  the  wood ; 
I  seized  my  knife  and  trusty  gun,  and  face  to  face  we  stood ! 
The  Grizzly  Bear  came  rushing  on, — and,  as  he  rush'd,  he  fell ! 
Hie  at  him,  dogs !  my  rifle  has  done  its  duty  well ! 


THE  SONG  OF  SIXTEEN.  257 

Hie  at  him,  dogs  !  one  bullet  cannot  kill  a  foe  so  grim ; 
The  God  of  battles  nerve  a  man  to  grapple  now  with  him, — 
And  straight  between  his  hugging  arms  I  plunge  my  whetted  knife, 
Ha — ha  !  it  splits  his  iron  heart,  and  drinks  the  ruddy  life ! 

Frantic  he  struggles — welling  blood — the  strife  is  almost  o'er, — 
The  shaggy  monster,  feebly  panting,  wallows  in  his  gore, — 
Here,  lap  it  hot,  my.,gallant  hounds, — the  blood  of  foes  is  sweet ; 
Here,  gild  withal  your  dewlapp'd  throats,  and  wash  your  brawny  feet ! 

So  shall  we  beard  those  tyrants  in  their  dens  another  day, 

Nor  tamely  wait,  with  slavish  fear,  their  coming  in  the  way ; 

And  pleasant  thoughts  of  peace  and  home  shall  fill  our  dreams  to-night, 

For  lo,  the  God  of  battles  has  help'd  us  hi  the  fight ! 


THE    SONG    OF    SIXTEEN. 

WHO  shall  guess  what  I  may  be  ? 

Who  can  tell  my  fortune  to  me  ? 

For,  bravest  and  brightest  that  ever  was  sung 

May  be — and  shall  be — the  lot  of  the  young ! 

Hope,  with  her  prizes  and  victories  won, 
Shines  in  the  blaze  of  my  morning  sun, 
Conquering  Hope,  with  golden  ray, 
Blessing  my  landscape  far  away; 

All  my  meadows  and  hills  are  green, 
And  rippling  waters  glance  between, — 
All  my  skies  are  rosy  bright, 
Laughing  in  triumph  at  yester-night : 

My  heart,  my  heart  within  me  swells, 
Panting,  and  stirring  its  hundred  wells ; — 
For  youth  is  a  noble  seed,  that  springs 
Into  the  flower  of  heroes  and  kings  ! 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Rich  in  the  present,  though  poor  in  the  past, 
I  yearn  for  the  future,  vague  and  vast : 
And  lo !  what  treasure  of  glorious  things 
Giant  Futurity  sheds  from  his  wings : 

Pleasures  are  there,  like  dropping  balms, 
And  glory  and  honour  with  chaplets  and  palms, 
And  mind  well  at  ease,  and  gladness,  and  health 
A  river  of  peace,  and  a  mine  of  wealth ! 

Away  with  your  counsels,  and  hinder  me  not, — 
On,  on  let  me  press  to  my  brilliant  lot ; 
Young  and  strong,  and  sanguine  and  free, 
How  knowest  thou  what  I  may  be  ? 


FORTY. 

AH,  poor  youth  !  in  pitiful  truth, 
Thy  pride  must  feel  a  fall,  poor  youth : 
What  thou  shalt  be,  well  have  I  seen, — 
Thou  shalt  be  only  what  others  have  been. 

Haply,  within  a  few  swift  years, 
A  mind  bowed  down  with  troubles  and  fears, 
The  commonest  druge  of  men  and  things, 
Instead  of  your — conquering  heroes  and  Mags. 

...  * 

Haply,  to  follies  an  early  wreck, — 
For  the  cloud  of  presumption  is  now  like  a  speck, 
And  with  a  whelming,  sudden  sweep, 
The  storm  of  temptation  roars  over  the  deep  ; 

Lower  the  sails  of  pride,  rash  youth, 
Stand  to  the  lowly  tiller  of  truth  ; 
Quick  !  or  your  limber  bark  shall  be 
The  sport  of  the  winds  on  a  stormy  sea. 


I 


THE  SONG  OF  SEVENTY.  259 

Care  and  peril  in  lieu  of  joy, — 

Guilt  and  dread  may  be  thine,  proud  boy : 

Lo,  thy  mantling  chalice  of  life 

Is  foaming  with  sorrow,  and  sickness,  and  strife ; 

Cheated  by  pleasure,  and  sated  with  pain, — 
Watching  for  honour,  and  watching  in  vain,— 
Aching  in  heart,  and  ailing  in  head, 
Wearily  earning  daily  bread. 

— It  is  well.    I  discern  a  tear  on  thy  cheek : 
It  is  well, — thou  art  humbled,  arid  silent,  and  meek : 
Now, — courage  again  !  and,  with  peril  to  cope, 
Gird  thee  with  vigour,  and  helm  thee  with  hope ! 

For  life,  good  youth,  hath  never  an  ill 

Which  hope  cannot  scatter,  and  faith  cannot  kill ;   • 

And  stubborn  realities  never  shall  bind 

The  free-spreading  wings  of  a  cheerful  mind. 


THE    SONG*OF     SEVENTY. 


I  AM  not  old, — I  cannot  be  old, 

Though  threescore  years  and  ten 
Have  wasted  away,  like  a  tale  that  is  told, 

The  lives  of  other  men  : 

A 

I  am  not  old ;  though  friends  and  foes 

Alike  have  gone  to  their  graves, 
And  left  me  alone  to  my  joys  or  my  woes, 

As  a  rock  in  the  midst  of  the  waves. 

I  am  not  old, — I  cannot  be  old, 
Though  tottering,  wrinkled  and  gray : 

Though  my  eyes  are  dim,  and  my  marrow  is  cold, 
Call  me  not  old  to-day. 


260  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

For  early  memories  round  me  throng, 
Old  times,  and  manners,  and  men, 

As  I  look  behind  on  my  journey  so  long, 
Of  threescore  miles  and  ten ; 

1  look  behind,  and  am  once  more  young, 

Buoyant,  and  brave,  and  bold, 
And  my  heart  can  sing,  as  of  yore  it  sung, 

Before  they  called  me  old. 

I  do  not  see  her, — the  old  wife  there — 

Shrivelled,  and  haggard,  and  gray, 
But  I  look  on  her  blooming,  and  soft,  and  fair 
As  she  was  on  her  wedding  day  ! 

I  do  not  see  you,  daughters  and  sons, 

In  the  likeness  of  women  and  men, 
But  I  kiss  you  now  as  I  kissed  you  once, 
My  fond  little  children  then : 

v 
And  as  my  own  grandson  rides  on  my  knee, 

Or  plays  with  his  hoop  or  kite, 
I  can  well  recollect  I  was  merry  as  he — 

The  bright-eyed  little  wight ! 

'Tis  not  long  since, — it  cannot  be  long, — 

My  years  so  soon  were  spent, 
Since  I  was  a  boy,  both  straight  and  strong, 

Yet  now  am  I  feeble  and  bent. 

A  dream,  a  dream, — it  is  all  a  dream !    * 
A  strange,  sad  dream,  good  sooth  ; 

For  old  as  I  am,  and  old  as  I  seem, 
My  heart  is  full  of  youth : 

Eye  hath  not  seen,  tongue  hath  not  told, 

And  ear  hath  not  heard  it  sung, 
How  buoyant  and  bold,  though  it  seem  to  grow  old, 

Is  the  heart,  for  ever  young ; 


NATURE'S  NOBLEMAN.  261 

For  ever  young, — though  life's  old  age 

Hath^very  nerve  unstrung: 
The  heart,  the  heart  is  a  heritage 

That  keeps  the  old  man  young ! 


NATURE'S  NOBLEMAN. 

AWAY  with  false  fashion,  so  calm  and  so  chill, 

Where  pleasure  itself  cannot  please ; 
Away  with  cold  breeding,  that  faithlessly  still 

Affects  to  be  quite  at  its  ease ; 
For  the  deepest  in  feeling  is  highest  in  rank, 

The  freest  is  first  in  the  band, 
And  nature's  own  Nobleman,  friendly  and  frank, 

Is  a  man  with  his  heart  hi  his  hand ! 

Fearless  in  honesty,  gentle  yet  just, 

He  warmly  can  love, — and  can  hate, 
Nor  will  he  bow  down  with  his  face  in  the  dust 

To  Fashion's  intolerant  state : 
For  best  in  good  breeding,  and  highest  in  rank, 

Though  lowly  or  poor  in  the  land, 
Is  nature's  own  Nobleman,  friendly  and  frank, 

The  man  with  his  heart  La  his  hand ! 

His  fashion  is  passion,  sincere  and  intense, 

His  impulses,  simple  and  true, 
Yet  tempered  by  judgment,  and  taught  by  good  sense, 

And  cordial  with  me,  and  with  you : 
For  the  finest  in  manners,  as  highest  in  rank, 

It  is- you,  man !  or  you,  man !  who  stand 
Nature's  own  Nobleman,  friendly  and  frank, — 

A  man  with  his  heart  in  his  hand ! 


262  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 


NEVER   GIVE   UP." 

NEVER  give  up  !  it  is  wiser  and  better 

Always  to  hope,  than  once  to  despair ; 
Fling  off  the  load  of  Doubt's  cankering  fetter, 

And  break  the  dark  spell  of  tyrannical  care : 
Never  give  up !  or  the  burthen  may  sink  you,— 

Providence  kindly  has  mingled  the  cup, 
And  in  all  trials  or  troubles,  bethink  you, 

The  watchword  of  life  must  be,  Never  give  up ! 

Never  give  up !  there  are  chances  and  changes 

Helping  the  hopeful,  a  hundred  to  one, 
And  through  the  chaos  High  Wisdom  arranges 

Ever  success, — if  you'll  only  hope  on : 
Never  give  up !  for  the  wisest  is  boldest, 

Knowing  that  Providence  mingles  the  cup, 
And  of  all  maxims  the  best,  as  the  oldest, 

Is  the  true  watchword  of  Never  give  up ! 

Never  give  up ! — though  the  grape-shot  may  rattle, 

Or  the  full  thunder-cloud  over  you  burst, 
Stand  like  a  rock, — and  the  storm  or  the  battle 

Little  shall  harm  you,  though  doing  their  worst : 
Never  give  up  ! — if  adversity  presses, 

Providence  wisely  has  mingled  the  cup, 
And  the  best  counsel,  in  all  your  distresses, 

Is  the  stout  watchword  of  Never  give  up ! 


THE   SUN. 

BLAME  not,  ye  million  worshippers  of  gold- 
Modern  idolater!? — their  works  and  ways, 

When  Asia's  children,  in  the  times  of  old, 
Knelt  to  the  sun,  outpouring  prayer  and  praise 


THE  STARS.  263 

As  to  God's  central  throne ;  for  when  the  blaze 
Of  that  grand  eye  is  on  me,  and  I  stand 

.Watching  its  majesty  with  painful  gaze, 
I  too  could  kneel  among  that  Persian  band, 

Had  not  the  Architect  of  yon  bright  sphere 
Taught  me  Himself;  bidding  me  look  above, 

Beneath,  around,  and  still  to  find  Him — here ! 
King  of  the  heart,  dwelling  in  no  fixt  globe, 

But  gladly  throned  within  the  spirit  of  love, 
Wearing  that  light  ethereal  as  a  robe. 


THE   MOON. 

I  KNOW  thee  not,  O  moon, — thou  caverned  realm, 

Sad  satellite,  a  giant  ash  of  death, 

Where  cold,  alternate,  and  the  sulphurous  breath 
Of  ravaging  volcanoes,  overwhelm 
All  chance  of  life  like  ours, — art  thou  not 

Some  fallow  world,  after  a  reaping  time 
Of  creatures'  judgment,  resting  in  thy  lot  ? 
Or  haplier  must  I  take  thee  for  the  blot 

On  God's  fair  firmament,  the  home  of  crime, 
The  prison-house  of  sin,  where  damned  souls 

Feed  upon  punishment  ? — O  thought  sublime, 
That,  amid  Night's  black  deeds,  when  evil  prowls 

Through  the  broad  world,  then,  watching  sinners  well, 

Glares  over  all  the  wakeful  eye  of — Hell ! 


THE   STARS. 

i. 

FAB-FLAMIKG  stars,  ye  sentinels  of  Space, 
Patient  and  silent  ministers  around 


264  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Your  Queen,  the  moon,  whose  melancholy  face 
Seems  ever  pale  with  pity  and  grief  profound 

For  sinful  Earth, — I,  a  poor  groveller  here, 
A  captive  eagle  chain'd  to  this  dull  ground, 

Look  up  and  love  your  light  in  hope  and  fear : 
Hope,  that  among  your  myriad  host  is  one, 

A  kingdom  for  my  spirit,  a  bright  place 
Where  I  shall  reign  when  this  short  race  is  run, 
An  heir  of  joy,  and  glory's  mighty  son ! 

Yet,  while  I  hope,  the  fear  will  freeze  my  brain — 

What  if  indeed  for  worthless  me  remain 
No  waiting  sceptre,  no  predestined  throne  ? 


THE  STARS. 

u. 
HENCE,  doubts  of  darkness  !  I  am  not  mine  own, 

But  ransomed  by  the  King  of  that  bright  host : 

In  Him  my  just  humility  shall  boast, 
And  claim  through  Him  that  sceptre  and  that  throne. 
Yes,  world  of  light, — when  by  the  booming  sea 

At  eve  I  loiter  on  this  shingly  coast, 
In  seeming  idleness, — I  gaze  on  thee, 
(I  know  not  which — but  one,)  fated  to  be 

My  glorious  heritage,  my  heavenly  home, 
A  temple  and  a  paradise  for  me, 

Whence  my  celestial  form  at  will  may  roam 

To  other  worlds,  unthought  and  unexplor'd, 
Whose  atmosphere  is  bliss  and  liberty, 

The  palaces  and  gardens  of  the  Lord ! 


FORGIVE   AND   FORGET. 

WHEN  streams  of  unkindness,  as  bitter  as  gall, 
Bubble  up  from  the  heart  to  the  tongue, 


FORGIVE  AND  FORGET.  265 

And  Meekness  is  writhing  in  torment  and  thraH, 

By  the  hands  of  Ingratitude  wrung, — 
In  the  heat  of  injustice,  unwept  and  unfair, 

While  the  anguish  is  festering  yet, 
None,  none  hut  an  angel,  or  God,  can  declare 

"  I  now  can  forgive  and  forget." 

But,  if  the  bad  spirit  is  chased  from  the  heart, 

And  the  lips  are  in  penitence  steep'd, 
With  the  wrong  so  repented  the  wrath  will  depart, 

Though  scorn  on  injustice  were  heaped ; 
For  the  best  compensation  is  paid  for  all  ill, 

When  the  cheek  with  contrition  is  wet, 
And  every  one  feels  it  is  possible  still, 

At  once  to  forgive  and  forget. 

To  forget  ?    It  is  hard  for  a  man  with  a  mind, 

However  his  heart  may  forgive, 
To  blot  out  all  perils  and  dangers  behind, 

And  but  for  the  future  to  live : 
Then  how  shall  it  be  ?  for  at  every  turn 

Recollection  the  spirit  will  fret, 
And  the  ashes  of  injury  smoulder  and  burn, 

Though  we  strive  to  forgive  and  forget. 

Oh,  hearken !  my  tongue  shall  the  riddle  unseal, 

And  mind  shall  be  partner  with  heart, 
While  thee  to  thyself  I  bid  conscience  reveal, 

And  show  thee  how  evil  thou  art : 
Remember  thy  follies,  thy  sins,  and — thy  crimes, 

How  vast  is  that  infinite  debt ! 
Yet  Mercy  hath  seven  by  seventy  times 

Been  swift  to  forgive  and  forget ! 

Brood  not  on  insults  or  injuries  old, 

For  thou  art  injurious  too, —  • 

Count  not  their  sum  till  tha  total  is  told, 

For  thou  art  unkind  and  untrue : 

12 


266  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

And  if  all  thy  harms  are  forgotten,  forgiven, 

Now  mercy  with  justice  is  met, 
Oh,  who  would  not  gladly  take  lessons  of  heaven, 

Nor  learn  to  forgive  and  forget  ? 

Yes,  yes ;  let  a  man,  when  his  enemy  weeps, 

Be  quick  to  receive  him,  a  friend  ; 
For  thus  on  his  head  in  kindness  he  heaps 

Hot  coals, — to  refine  and  amend; 
And  hearts  that  are  Christian  more  eagerly  yearn, 

As  a  nurse  on  her  innocent  pet, 
Over  lips  that,  once  bitter,  to  penitence  turn, 

And  whisper,  Forgive  and  forget. 


"MY   MIND    TO   ME   A  K-INGDOM  I 

EUREKA  !  this  is  truth  sublime, 
Defying  change,  outwrestling  time — 
Eureka  !  well  that  truth  is  told, 
Wisely  spake  the  bard  of  old — 
Eureka  !  there  is  peace  and  praise 
In  this  short  and  simple  phrase, 
A  sea  of  comforts,  wide  and  deep, 
Wherein  my  conscious  soul  to  steep, 
A  hoard  of  happy-making  wealth 
To  doat  on,  miserly,  by  stealth, 
Through  Timenny  reason's  ripest  fruit, 
For  all  eternity  its  root, 
Earth's  harvest,  and  the  seed  of  heaven, 
To  me,  to  ma,  by  mercy  given  ! 

Yes,  eureka, — I  have  found  it, 
And  before  the  world  will  sound  it ; 
This  remains,  and  still  shall  stay 
When  life's  gauds  have  passed  away, 


MY  MIND'S  KINGDOM.  267 

This,  of  old  my  treasure-truth, 
The  bosom  joy  that  warm'd  my  youth, 
My  happiness  in  manhood's  prime, 
My  triumph  down  the  stream  of  time, 
Till  death  shall  lull  this  heart  in  age, 
And  deathless  glory  crown  my  page, 
My  grace-born  truth  and  treasure  this,— 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Noble  solace,  true  and  strong, 
Great  reward  for  human  wrong, 
With  an  inward  blessing  still 
To  compensate  all  earthly  ill, 
To  recompense  for  adverse  fates, 
Woes,  or  wants,  or  scorns,  or  hates, 
To  cherish,  after  man's  neglect, 
When  foes  deride,  and  friends  suspect, 
To  soothe  and  bless  the  spirit  bow'd 
Down  by  the  selfish  and  the  proud, 
To  lift  the  soul  above  this  scene 
Of  petty  troubles  trite  and  mean, 

0  there  is  mortal  might  in  this, — 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Carve  it  deep,  with  letters  bold, 
In  the  imperishable  gold, 
Grave  it  on  some  primal  rock 
That  hath  stood  the  earthquake  shock, 
Make  that  word  a  citizen 
Dwelling  in  the  hearts  9f  men, 
Sound  it  in  the  ears  of  age, 
Stamp  it  on  the  printed  page, 
Gladden  sympathizing  youth 
With  the  soft  music  of  this  truth, 
This  echoed  note  of  heavenly  bliss, 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Ay,  chide  or  scorn, — I  will  be  proud,— 

1  am  not  of  a  slavish  crowd ; 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

No  serf  is  here  to  outward  things,— 

He  rules  with  chiefs  !  he  reigns  with  kings  i 

Tell  out  thy  secret  joys,  my  mind, 

Free  and  fearless  as  the  wind, 

And  pour  the  triumphs  of  the  soul 

In  words  that  like  a  river  roll, 

Foaming  on  with  vital  force 

From  their  ever-gushing  source, 

Fountains  of  truth,  that  overwhelm 

With  swollen  streams  this  royal  realm, 

And  in  Nilotic  richness  steep 

My  heart's  Thebafd,  rank  and  deep ! 

Or  bolder,  as  my  thoughts  inspire, 

Change  that  water  into  fire  ! 

From  the  vext  bowels  of  my  soul 

Lava  currents  roar  and  roll, 

Bursting  out  in  torrent  wide 

Through  my  crater's  ragged  side, 

Rushing  on  from  field  to  field, 

Till  all  with  boiling  stone  is  seal'd, 

And  my  hot  thoughts,  in  language  pent, 

Stand  their  own  granite  monument ! 

Yes !  all  the  elements  are  mine, 

To  crush,  create,  dissolve,  combine,— 

All  mine, — the  confidence  is  just, 

On  God  I  ground  my  high-born  trust 

To  stand,  when  pole  is  rent  from  pole, 

Calm  in  my  majesty  of  soul, 

Watching  the  throe*  of  this  wreck'd  world, 

When  from  their  thrones  the  Alps  are  hurl'd, 

When  fire  consumes  earth,  sea,  and  air, 

To  stand,  unharm'd,  undaunted  there, 

And  grateful  still  to  boast  in  this, 

"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Brother  poet,  dead  so  long, 
Heed  these  echoes  to  thy  song, 
And  love  me  now,  where'er  thou  art, 
Yearning  with  magnetic  heart 


MY  MIND'S  KINGDOM.  2G? 

From  thy  throne  in  some  bright  sphere 

On  this  poor  brother  grovelling  here ; 

For  I,  too,  I  can  stoutly  sing 

I  am  every  inch  a  king ! 

A  king  of  Thought,  a  Potentate 

Of  glorious  spiritual  state, 

A  king  of  Thought,  a  king  of  Mind, 

Realms  unmapp'd  and  undefined, — 

A  king  !  beneath  no  man's  control, 

Invested  with  a  royal  soul, 

Crown'd  by  God's  imperial  hand 

Before  him  as  a  king  to  stand, 

And  by  His  wisdom  train'd  and  taught 

To  rule  my  realm  as  King  of  Thought. 

O  thoughts, — how  ill  my  fellow-men, 

0  thoughts, — how  scanty  my  poor  pen 
Can  guess  or  tell  the  myriad  host 
Wherewith  you  crowd  my  kingdom's  coast ! 
For  I  am  hemm'd  and  throng'i  about 
With  your  triumphant  rabble-rout, 
Hurried  along  by  that  mad  flood, 

The  joy-excited  multitud 
A  conqueror,  borne  upon  the  foam, 
Of  his  great  people's  gladness  home, 
A  monarch  in  his  grandest  state, 
On  whom  a  thousand  thousand  wait ! 
Lo !  they  come — my  Tribes  of  Thought, 
Fierce  and  flush'd  and  fever-fraught ! 
From  the  horizon  all  around 

1  hear  with  pride  their  coming  sound ; 
See  !  their  banners  circling  near, — 
Glittering  groves  of  shield  and  spear, 
Flying  clouds  of  troopers  gay, 
Serried  lines  in  dark  array, 
Veterans  calm  with  temper'd  sword, 
And  a  dishevelled  frantic  horde, — 
On  they  come  with  furious  force, 
Tramping  foot  and  thundering  horse, 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

On  they  come,  converging  loud, 
With  clanging  arras,  a  glorious  crowd 
Shouting  impatient,  fierce  and  free, 
For  me,  their  Monarch,  yea,  for  me ! 

Then,  in  my  majesty  and  power, 

I  quell  the  madness  of  the  hour, 

Bid  that  tumultuous  turmoil  cease, 

And  frown  my  multitudes  to  peace. 

Each  to  his  peril  and  his  post ! 

All  hush'd  throughout  my  mighty  host : 

Courage  clear,  and  duty  stern, — 

Heads  that  freeze  and  hearts  that  burn ; 

Marshalled  straight  in 'order  due, 

Legions  !  pass  in  swift  review, 

Bending  to  my  blazoned  will, 

Loyal  to  that  standard  still, 

And  hailing  me  with  homage  then 

King  of  Thoughts — and  thus,  of  Men !  -  • 

• ' 

What  ?  am  I  powerless  to  control 
Nations,  by  my  single  soul  ? 
What  ?  have  I  not  made  thousands  thrill 
By  the  mere  impulse  of  my  will, 
When  the  strong  Thought  goes  forth,  and  binds 
Captive  a  wandering  herd  of  minds  ? 
And  is  not  this  to  reign  alone 
More  than  the  ermine  and  the  throne, 
The  jewelled  state,  the  gilded  rooms, 
The  mindless  man  in  borrowed  plumes  ? 
Yes, — if  the  inmate  soul  outweighs 
Its  dull  clay  house  in  power  and  praise : 
Yes, — if  Eternity  be  true, 
And  Time  both  false"  and  fleeting  too, 
Then,  humbler  kings,  my  boast  be  this, 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is.' 

• 
And  what,  though  weak  and  slow  of  speech, 

HI  to  comfort,  dull  to  teach  ? 


MY  MIND'S  KINGDOM.  271 

What,  though  hiding  from  the  ken 
Ol  my  small  prying  fellow-men,— 
.  Still  within  my  musing  mind, 
Wisdom's  secret  stores  I  find, 
And,  little  noticed,  sweetly  feed 
On  hidden  manna,  meat  indeed, 
Blessed  thoughts  I  never  told 
Unconsidered,  uncontroll'd, 
Rushing  by  as  thick  and  fast 
As  autumn  leaves  upon  the  blast : 
Or  better,  like  the  gracious  rain 
Dropping  on  some  thirsty  plain. 
And  is  not  this  to  be  a  king, 
To  carry  in  my  heart  a  spring 
Of  ceaseless  pleasures,  deep  and  pure, 
Wealth  cannot  buy,  nor  power  procure  ? 
Yea, — by  the  poet's  artless  art, 
And  the  sweet  searchings  of  his  heart, 
By  his  unknown,  unheeded  bliss, 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 

Place  me  on  some  desert  shore 

Foot  of  man  ne'er  wandered  o'er ; 

Lock  me  in  a  lonely  cell 

Beneath  some  prison  citadel ; 

Still,  here  or  there,  within  I  find 

My  quiet  kingdom  of  the  Mind ; 

Nay, — mid  the  tempest  fierce  and  dark. 

Float  me  on  peril's  frailest  bark, 

My  quenchless  soul  could  sit  and  think 

And  smile  at  danger's  dizziest  brink :     • 

And  wherefore  ? — God,  my  God,  is  still 

King  of  kings  in  good  and  ill ; 

And  where  He  dwefcth — every  where — 

Safety  supreme  and  peace  are  there  ; 

And  where  he  reigneth — all  around — 

Wisdom,  and  love,  and  power  are  found ; 

And  reconciled  to  Him  and  bliss, 

"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 


272  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Thus  for  my  days ;  each  waking  hour 
Grand  with  majesty  and  power, 
Every  minute  rich  in  treasure, 
Gems  of  peace,  and  pearls  of  pleasure. 
And  for  my  nights — those  wondrous  nights  ? 
How  manifold  my  Mind's  delights, 
When  the  young  truant,  gladly  caught 
In  its  own  labyrinths  of  thought, 
Finds  there  is  another  realm  to  range, 
The  dynasties  of  Chance  and  Change. 
O  dreams, — what  know  I  not  of  dreams  ? 
Their  name,  their  very  essence,  seems 
A  tender  light,  not  dark  nor  clear, 
A  sad  sweet  mystery  wild  and  dear, 
A  dull  soft  feeling  unexplained, 
A  lie  half  true,  a  truth  half  feigned : 
*     O  dreams, — what  know  I  not  of  dreams  ? 
When  Reason,  with  inebriate  gleams, 
Looses  from  his  wise  control 
The  prancing  Fancies  of  the  soul, 
And  sober  Judgment,  slumbering  still, 
Sets  free  Caprice  to  guide  the  Will. 
Within  one  night  have  I  not  spent 
Years  of  adventurous  banishment, 
Strangely  groping  like  the  blind 
In  the  dark  caverns  of  my  mind  ? 
Have  I  not  dwelt,  from  eve  till  morn, 
Lifetimes  in  length  for  praise  or  scorn, 
With  fancied  joys,  ideal  woes, 
And  all  sensation's  warmest  glows, 
Wondrously  thus  expanding  Life 
Through  seeming  scenes  of  peace  or  strife, 
Until  I  verily  reign  sublime, 
A  great  creative  Mfrg  of  Time  ? 

And  there  are  people,  things,  and  places, 
Usual  themes,  familiar  faces, 
A  second  life,  that  looks  as  real 
As  this  dull  world's  own  unideal, 


MY  MIND'S  KINGDOM.  273 

Another  life  of  dreams  by  night, 
That,  still  forgotten  wanes  in  light, 
Yet  seems  itself  to  wake  and  sleep, 
And  in  that  sleep  dreams  doubly  deep, 
While  those  same  dreams  may  dream  anon, 
Tangled  mazes  wandering  on  ! 
Yes,  I  have  often,  weak  and  worn, 
Feebly  waked  at  earliest  morn, 
As  a  shipwreck'd  sailor,  tost 
By  the  wild  waves  on  some  rough  coast, 
Of  perils  past  remembering  nought 
But  some  dim  cataracts  of  thought, 
And  only  roused  betimes  to  know 
That  yesterday  seems  years  ago  ! 
And  I  can  apprehend  full  well 
What  old  Pythagoras  could  tell 
Of  other  scenes,  and  other  climes, 
And  other  Selfs  hi  other  times ; 
For,  oft  my  consciousness  has  reel'd 
With  scores  of  "  Richards  hi  the  field," 
As,  multiform,  with  no  surprise, 
I  see  myself  in  other  guise, 
And  wonderless  walk  side  by  side 
With  mine  own  soul,  self-multiplied! 
If  it  be  royal  then  to  reign 
Over  an  infinite  domain, 
If  it  be  more  than  monarch  can 
To  lengthen  out  the  life  of  man, 
Yea,  if  a  godlike  thing  it  be 
To  revel  in  ubiquity, 
Is  there  but  empty  boast  La  this, 
"  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is  ?" 
— Peace,  rash  fool ;  be  proud  no  more, 
Count  thy  faults  and  follies  o'er, 
Turn  aside,  and  note  within 
Thy  secret  charnel-house  of  Sin-, 
Thy  bitter  heart,  thy  covetous  mind. 
Evil  thoughts,  and  words  unkind : 
12*. 


274  -A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Can  so  foul  and  mean  a  thing 
Reign  a  spiritual  King  ? 
Art  thou  not — yea  tliou,  myself, 
In  hope  a  slave  to  pride  and  pelf? 
Art  thou  not, — yea,  thou,  my  mind, 
Weak  and  naked,  poor  and  blind  ? 
Yea,  be  humble ;  yea,  be  still ; 
Meekly  bow  that  rebel  Will ; 
Seek  not  selfishly  for  praise  ; 
Go  more  softly  all  thy  days  ; 
For  to  thee  belongs  no  power, 
Wretched  insect  of  an  hour, — 
And  if  God  in  bounteous  dole,  . 
Hath  grafted  life  upon  thy  soul, 
Know  thou,  there  is  out  of  Him 
Nor  light  in  mind,  nor  might  in  limb ; 
•      And,  but  for  One,  who  from  the  grave 
Of  sin  and  death  stood  forth  to  save, 
Thy  mind,  that  royal  mind  of  thine, 
So  great,  ambitious  and  divine, 
Would  but  a  root  of  anguish  be, 
A  madness  and  a  misery, 
A  bitter  fear,  a  hideous  care 
All  too  terrible  to  bear, 
Kingly, — but  king  of  pains  and  woes, 
The  sceptred  slave  to  throbs  and  throes ! 

Justly  then,  my  God,  to  thee, 
My  royal  soul  shall  bend  the  knee. 
My  royal  soul,  Thy  glorious  breath, 
By  Thee  set  free  from  guilt  and  death, 
Before  thy  Majesty  bows  down, 
Offering  the  homage  of  her  crown, 
Well  pleased  to  sing  in  better  bliss, 
"  My  God  to  me  a  kingdom  is." 


SONNET,  ON  A  BIRTH.  275 


TARRING    CHURCH. 

MOTHER, — beneath  fair  Taning's  heavenward  spire, 
Where  in  old  years  thy  youthful  vows  were  paid, 

When  God  had  granted  thee  thy  heart's  desire, 
And  she  went  forth  a  wife,  who  came  a  maid, 
With  mindful  steps  thus  wisely  have  we  stray'd, 

Full  of  deep  thoughts :  for  where  that  sacred  fire 
Of  Love  was  kindled,  in  the  self-same  spot, 
Thou,  with  the  dear  companion  of  thy  lot, 

Thy  helpmate  all  those  years,  mine  honour'd  sire, 
To-day  have  found  fulfilled  before  your  eyes 

The  promise  of  old  time ; — look  round  and  see 
Thy  children's  children !  lo,  these  babes  arise, 

And  call  thee  blessed :  Blessed  both  be  ye ! 

And  in  your  blessing  bless  ye  these,  and  me. 


SONNET;    ON   A    BIRTH. 

AT  length, — a  dreary  length  of  many  years, 
God's  favour  hath  shone  forth !  and  blest  thee  well, 

O  handmaid  of  the  Lord,  for  all  thy  tears, 

For  all  thy  prayers,  and  hope,  and  faith — and  fears, 
With  that  best  treasure  of  consummate  joy 

A  childless  wife  alone  can  fully  tell 

How  sorely  long  withheld — her  first-born  boy : 

This  blessing  is  from  heav'n ;  to  heav'n  once  more, 
Another  Hannah  with  her  Samuel, 
Render  thou  back  the  talent  yielding  ten, 
A  spirit,  trained  right  early  to  adore, 
A  heart  to  yearn  upon  its  fellow-men,  _ 

A  being,  meant  and  made  for  endless  heaven, 

This  give  to  God :  this,  God  to  thee  hath  given. 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 


DUTY. 

PEARLS  before  swine :  this  is  an  old  complaint ; 

In  very  humbleness,  and  not  in  pride, 
The  spirit  feels  it  true ;  yet  makes  a  feint 

To  rest  with  man's  neglect  well  satisfied, 
And  have  its  wealth  of  words,  its  stores  of  thought 

Despised  or  unregarded :  woe  betide 
The  heart  that  lives  on  praise !  considering  nought 
Of  Duty's  royal  edicts,  that  command 

Thy  talents  to  be  lent,  thy  lamp  to  shine : 
Soul,  be  not  faint ;  nor,  body,  stay  thy  hand ; 

Heed  only  this, — not  whether  those  be  swine 
But  whether  these  be  pearls,  precious  and  pure ; 
That  so,  whatever  fate  the  world  make  thine, 
With  God  for  Judge,  thy  guerdon  be  secure. 


COUNSEL. 

FOR-    MUSIC. 

THERE  is  a  time  for  praising, 

And  a  better  time  for  pray'r,— - 
The  heart  its  anthem  raising, 

Or  uttering  its  care : 
One  minute  is  for  smiling, 

And  another  for  the  tear, — • 
Hope,  by  turns,  beguiling, 

Or  her  haggard  brother,  Fear. 

But,  if  in  joy  thou  praisest 

The  generous  Hand  that  gave,— 
And  if  hi  woe  thou  raisest 
The  prayer  that  He  may  save ; 

Thy  griefs  shall  seem  all  pleasure, 
As  the  chidings  of  a  Friend, 

And  thy  joys  ecstatic  measure 
A  beginning  without  end ! 


BYEGONES.  27" 

• 

HOME. 

FOE    MUSIC. 

I  NEVER  left  the  place  that  knew  me, 

And  may  never  know  me  more, 
Where  the  chords  of  kindness  drew  me, 

And  have  gladdened  me  of  yore, 
But  my  secret  soul  has  smarted 

With  a  feeling  full  of  gloom 
For  the  days  that  are  departed, 

And  the  place  I  call'd  my  Home. 

I  am  not  of  those  who  wander 

Unaffectioned  here  and  there, 
But  my  heart  must  still  be  fonder 

Of  my  sites  of  joy  or  care ; 
And  I  point  sad  memory's  finger 

(Though  my  faithless  foot  may  roam) 
Where  I've  most  been  made  to  linger 

In  the  place  I  call'd  my  Home. 


BYEGONES. 

FOR     MUSIC. 

*  LET  byegones  be  byegones," — they  foolishly  say, 

And  bid  me  be  wise  and  forget  them ; 
But  old  recollections  are  active  to-day, 

And  I  can  do  nought  but  regret  them ; 
Though  the  present  be  pleasant,  all  joyous  and  gay, 

And  promising  well  for  the  morrow, 
I  love  to  look  back  on  the  years  past  away, 

Embalming  my  byegones  in  sorrow. 

If  the  morning  of  life  has  a  mantle  of  gray, 
Its  noon  will  be  blither  and  brighter, 


278  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

• 

If  March  has  its  storm,  there  is  sunshine  in  May, 

And  light  out  of  darkness  is  lighter : 
Thus  the  present  is  pleasant,  a  cheerful  to-day, 

With  a  wiser,  a  soberer  gladness, 
Because  it  is  tinged  with  the  mellowing  ray 
Of  a  yesterday's  sunset  of  sadness. 


RUJ.E,    BRITANNIA! 

A.  *<7RRINO.  BONG  FOR  PATRIOTS,  IN  THE  YEAR  1860. 
To  tia  lane  of  "  Wha  wonldna  fight  for  Chaiiis  1" 

RISE  !  ye  gallant  youth  of  Britain, 

Gather  to  your  country's  call, 
On  your  hearts  her  name  is"  written, 

Rise  to  help  her,  one  and  all  1 
Cast  away  each  feud  and  faction, 

Brood  not  over  wrong  nor  ill,— 
Rouse  your  virtues  into  action, 

For  we  love  our  country  still, — 
Hail,  Britannia !  hail,  Britannia ! 

Raise  that  thrilling  shout  once  more ; 
Rule,  Britannia !    Rule,  Britannia ! 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore ! 

France  is  coming,  full  of  bluster, 

Hot  to  wipe  away  her  slain, 
Therefore,  brothers,  here  we  muster 

Just  to  give  it  her  again ! 
And  if  foemen,  blind  with  fury, 

Dare  to  cross  our  ocean-gulf, 
Wait  not  then  for  judge  nor  jury, — 

Shoot  them  as  you  would  a  wolf  I 


RULE  BRITANNIA.  979 

For  Britannia,  just  Britannia, 

Claims  our  chorus  as  before ; 
Rule,  Britannia !     Rule,  Britannia ! 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore. 

They  may  writhe,  for  we  have  galled  them 

With  our  guns  in  every  clime,— 
They  may  hate  us,  for  we  called  them 

Serfs  and  subjects  in  old  time ! 
Boasting  Gaul,  we  calmly  scorn  you 

As  old  ^Esop's  bull  the  frogs ; 
Come  and  welcome !  for,  we  warn  you, 

We  shall  fling  you  to  our  dogs ! 
For  Britannia,  our  Britannia, 

Thunders  with  a  lion's  roar ; 
Rule  Britannia !    Rule,  Britannia ! 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore. 

See,  uprear'd  our  holy  standard  ! 

Crowd  around  it,  gallant  hearts ! 
What !  should  Britain's  fame  be  slandered 

As  by  fault  on  our  parts  ? 
Let  the  rabid  Frenchman  threaten, 

Let  the  mad  invader  come, 
We  will  hunt  them  out  of  Britain, 

Or  can  die  for  hearth  and  home ! 
For  Britannia,  dear  Britannia, 

Wakes  our  chorus  evermore — 
Rule,  Britannia !    Rule,  Britannia ! 

Conqueror  over  sea  and  shore. 

Rise  then,  patriots !  name  endearing, 

Flock  from  Scotland's  moors  and  dales, 
From  the  green,  glad  fields  of  Erin, 

From  the  mountain  homes  of  Wales,— 
RISE  !  for  sister  England  calls  you, 

RISE  !  our  common  weal  to  serve, 
RISE  !  while  now  the  song  enthralls  you, 

Thrilling  every  vein  and  nerve, 


A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Hail,  Britannia !  hail,  Britannia ! 

Conquer,  as  thou  didst  of  yore ! 
Rule,  Britannia !  Rule,  Britannia ! 

Over  every  sea  and  shore. 


THE    EMIGRANT    SHIP. 

FOR  MUSIC. 

FAR  away,  far  away, 
The  emigrant  ship  must  sail  to-day : 

Cruel  ship, — to  look  so  gay 
Bearing  the  exiles  far  away. 

Sad  and  sore,  sad  and  sore, 
Many  a  fond  heart  bleeds  at  the  core, 

Cruel  dread, — to  meet  no  more, 
Bitter  sorrow,  sad  and  sore. 

Meny  years,  many  years 
At  beat  will  they  battle  with  perils  and  fears  ; 

Cruel  pilot, — for  he  steers 
The  exiles  away  for  many  years. 

Long  ago,  long  ago ! 
For  the  days  that  are  gone  their  tears  shall  flow ; 

Cruel  hour, — to  tear  them  so 
F?om  all  they  cherished  long  ago. 

Fare  ye  well,  fare  ye  well ! 
T«  Joy  and  to  hope  it  sounds  as  a  kneC. 

Cruel  tale  it  were  to  tell 
How  the  emigrant  sighs  farewell. 

Far  away,  far  away  ! 
In  there  indeed  no  hope  to-day  ? 

Cruel  and  false  it  were  to  say 
There  are  no  pleasures  far  away. 


THE  ASSURANCE  OF  HORACE.  281 

Far  away,  far  away ! 
Every  night  and  every  day 

Kind  and  wise  it  were  to  pray, 
God  be  with  them  far  away ! 


THE    ASSURANCE    OF    HORACE. 

1  HAVE  achieved  a  tower  of  fame 

More  durable  than  gold, 
And  loftier  than  the  royal  frame 

Of  Pyramids  of  old,— 
Which  none  inclemencies  of  clime, 

Nor  fiercest  winds  that  blow, 
Nor  endless  change,  nor  lapse  of  time, 

Shall  ever  overthrow !  . 

I  cannot  perish  utterly : 

The  brighter  part  of  me 
Must  live — and  live — and  never  die, 

But  baffle  Death's  decree  ! 
For  I  shall  always  grow,  and  spread 

My  new-blown  honors  still, 
JxHig  as  the  priest  and  vestal  tread 

The  Capitolian  hill. 

I  shall  be  sung,  where  thy  rough  waves. 

My  native  river,  foam, — 
And  where  old  Daunus  scantly  laves 

And  rules  his  rustic  home  ; 
As  chief  and  first  I  shall  be  sung,        ^ 

Though  lowly,  great  in  might 
•     To  tune  my  country's  heart  and  tongue. 

And  tune  them  both  aright. 

Thou  then,  my  soul,  assume  thy  state, 
And  take  thine  honors  due  : 


289  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Be  proud,  as  thy  deserts  are  great, — 
To  thine  own  praise  be  true  ! 

Thou  too,  celestial  Muse,  come  down, 
And  with  kind  haste  prepare 

The  laurel  for  a  Delphic  cr.ow"n  • 
To  weave  thy  poet's  hair. 


THE    ASSURANCE    OF    OVID. 

Now  have  ^  done  my  work ! — which  not  Jove's  ire 
Can  make  undone,  nor  sword,  nor  time,  nor  fire. 
Whene'er  that  day,  whose  only  powers  extend 
Against  this  body,  my  brief  life  shall  end, 
Still  in  my  better  portion  evermore 
Above  the  stars  undying  shall  I  soar ! 
My  name  shall  never  die :  but  through  all  time, 
Wherever  Rome  shall  reach  a  conquered  clime, 
There,  in  that  people's  tongue,  shall  this  my  page 
Be  read  and  glorified  from  age  to  age ; — 
Yea,  if  the  bodings  of  my  spirit  give 
True  note  of  inspiration,  I  shall  live  ! 


POST-LETTERS. 

LOTTERY  tickets  every  day, — 

And  ever  drawn  a  blank  ! 
Yet  none  the  less  we  pant  and  pray 

For  prizes  in  that  bank : 
Morn  by  morn,  and  week  by  week, 

They  cheat  us,  or  amuse, 
Whilst  on  we  fondly  hope,  and  seek 

Some  stirring  daily  news. 


POST-LETTERS.     . 

The  heedless  postman  on  his  path 

Is  scattering  joys  and  woes ; 
He  bears  the  seeds  of  life  and  death, 

And  drops  them  as  he  goes ! 
I  never  note  him  trudging  near 

Upon  his  common  track, 
But  all  my  heart  is  hope,  or  fear, . 

With  visions  bright,  or  black! 

I  hope — what  hope  I  not  ? — vague  thing? 

Of  wondrous  possible  good ; 
I  dread — as  vague  imaginings, 

A  very  viper's  brood  : 
Fame's  sunshine,  fortune's  golden  dew* 

May  now  be  hovering  o'er, — 
Or  the  pale  shadow  of  ill  news 

Be  cowering  at  my  door  ! 

0  Mystery,  master-key  to  life, 
Thou  spring  of  every  hour, 

1  love  to  wrestle  in  thy  strife, 

And  tempt  thy  perilous  power ; 
I  love  to  know  that  none  can  know 

What  this  day  may  bring  fortn, 
What  bliss  for  me,  for  me  what  woe 

Is  travailing  in  birth  ! 

See,  on  my  neighbour's  threshold  stands 

Yon  careless  common  man, 
Bearing,  perchance,  in  those  coarse  hands, 

My  Being's  altered  plan ! 
My  germs  of  pleasure,  or  of  pain, 

Of  trouble,  or  of  peace, 
May  there  lie  thick  as  drops  of  rain 

Distilled  from  .Gideon's  fleece ! 

Who  knoweth  ?  may  not  loves  be  dead, — 
Or  those  we  loved  laid  low, — 

Who  knoweth  ?  may  not  wealth  be  fled, 
And  all  the  world  my  foe  ? 


284  A  THOUSAND  LINES. 

Or  who  can  tell  if  Fortune's  hour 
(Which  once  on  all  doth  shine) 

Be  not  within  this  morning's  dower, 
A  prosperous  morn  of  mine  ? 

Ah,  cold  Reality ! — in  spite 
Of  hopes,  ajid  endless  chance, 

That  bitter  postman,  ruthless  wight, 
Has  cheated  poor  Romance  ; 

No  letters  !  O  the  dreary  phrase : 
Another  day  forlorn : — 

And  thus  I  wend  upon  my  ways 

To  watch  another  morn. 

• 

Cease,  babbler ! — let  those  doublings  cease  i 

What !  should  a  son  of  heaven 
With  the  pure  manna  of  his  Peace 

Mix  up  his  faithless  leaven  ? 
Not  so  ! — for  in  the  hands  of  God, 

And  in  none  earthly  will, 
Abide  alike  my  staff,  and  rod, 

My  good,  and  seeming  ill. 


SOCIETY. 

ALAS,  we  do  but  act ;  we  are  not  free ; 

•The  presence  of  another  is  a  chain 

My  trammeled  spirit  strives  to  break,  in  vain : 
How  strangely  different  myself  from  me ! 

Thoughtful  in  solitude,  serenely  blest, 
Crown'd  and  enthroned' in  mental  majesty, 
Equal  to  all  things  great,  and  daring  all, 

I  muse  of  mysteries,  and  am  at  rest ; 

But,  in  the  midst,  some  dull  intruded  guest 
Topples  me  from  my  heights,  holding  in  tlirall 


TO  AN  INFANT. 

With  his  hard  eye  the  traitor  in  my  breast, 
That  before  humbler  intellects  is  cow'd,' 
Silently  shrinking  from  the  common  crowd, 

And  only  with  the  highest  self-possest. 


ON    AN    INFANT.* 

LOOK  on  this  babe ;  and  let  thy  pride  take  heed, 
Thy  pride  of  manhood,  intellect,  or  fame, 

That  thou  despise  him  not :  for  he  indeed, 
And  such  as  he,  in  spirit  and  heart  the  same 

Are  God's  own  children  hi  that  kingdom  brigh 
Where  purity  is  praise, — and  where  before 
The  Father's  throne,  triumphant  evermore, 

The  ministering  angels,  sons  of  light, 

Stand  unreproved  ;  because  they  offer  then 
Mix'd  with  the  Mediator's  hallowing  pray*! 

The  innocence  of  babes  in  Christ  like  this : 
O  guardian  Spirit,  be  my  child  thy  care, 

Lead  him  to  God,  obedience  and  bliss, 

To  God,  O  fostering  cherub,  thine  and  his ! 

*  William  Knighton  Tapper,  the  Author's  second  torn 


A  THOUSAND 


EPILOGUE. 

ARE  there  no  sympathies,  no  foves  between  us  ? 

Is  my  hope  vain  ? — I  have  not  vext  thee  long, 
Nor  lent  thee  thoughts  from  God  and  good  that  wean  us, 

Nor  given  thee  words  that  warp  from  right  to  wrong : 

And  if,  at  times,  my  too  trinmphant  song 
Hath  seem'd  self-praise, — doth  it  indeed  demean  us 
That  when  a  man  feels  hotly  at  his  heart 

The  quick  spontaneous  fire  of  thoughts  and  word* 
He  will  not  play  the  hypocrite's  ;il  T&it, 

Flinging  aside  the  meed  his  Mind  affords  7 

No !  with  all  gratitude  and  humbleness 
I  claim  mine  own ;  nor  can  affect  tc  scorn 
A  gift,  of  my  Creator's  goodness  born 

Whicn  is  my  grace  and  glory  to  possess. 


HACTENUS: 

• 

SUNDRY    OF    MY    LYRICS    HITHERTO. 


HACTENUS. 


THE    NEW    YEAR. 

THE  old  man  he  is  dead,  young  heir! 

And  gone  to  his  long  account; 
Come!  stand  on  his  hearth,  and  sit  in  nis  chair, 

And  into  his  saddle  mount! 

The  old  man's  face  was  a  face  to  be  fear'd, 

But  thine  both  loving  and  gay; 
O,  who  would  not  choose  for  that  stern  white  beard 

A  bright  young  cheek  alway  ? 

The  old  man  he  had  outlived  them  all, 

His  friends,  he  said,  were  gone ; 
But  hundreds  are  wassailing  now  in  the  hal^ 

And  true  friends  every  one ! 

The  old  man  moaned  both  sore  and  long 

Of  pleasures  past,  he  said ; 
But  pleasures  to  come  are  the  young  heir's  song, 

The  living,  not  the  dead! 

The  old  man  babbled  of  old  regret*. 

Alack!  how  much  he  owed; 
But  the  young  heir  has  not  a  feather  of  debts 

His  heart  withal  to  load! 
13 


290  HACTENUS. 

The  old  man  used  to  shudder,  and  seem 

Remembering  secret  sin ; 
But  the  happy  young  heir  is  as  if  in  a  dream,  — 

Paradise  all  within! 

Alas  !  for  the  old  man,  —  where  is  he  now  ? 

And  fear  for  thyself,  young  heir ; 
For  he  was  innocent  once  as  thou, 

As  ruddy,  and  blithe,  and  fair: 

Reap  wisdom  from  his  furrowed  face, 

Cull  counsel  from  his  fear ; 
O,  speed  thee,  young  heir,  in  gifts  and  in  grace, 

And  blessings  on  thee,  —  New  Year ! 


ALL'S    FOR    THE    BEST. 
(To  the  same  music  as  "Never  Give  Up.") 

ALL'S  for  the  best!  be  sanguine  and  cheerful, 

Trouble  and  sorrow  are  friends  in  disguise, 
Nothing  but  Folly  goes  faithless  and  fearful, 

Courage  for  ever  is  happy  and  wise : 
All  for  the  best,  —  if  a  man  would  but  know  it, 

Providence  wishes  us  all  to  be  blest, 
This  is  no  dream  of  the  pundit  or  poet, 

Heaven  is  gracious,  and  —  All's  for  the  best  I 

All  for  the  best,  set  this  on  your  standard, 

Soldier  of  sadness,  or  pilgrim  of  love, 
Who  to  the  shores  of  Despair  may  have  wander'd, 

A  way-wearied  swallow,  or  heart-stricken  dove : 
All  for  the  best!  —  be  a  man  but  confiding, 

Providence  tenderly  governs  the  rest, 
And  the  frail  bark  of  his  creature  is  guiding 

Wisely  and  warily,  all  for  the  best 


THE    RIDDLE    READ.  291 

All  for  the  best!  then  fling  away  terrors, 

Meet  all  your  fears  and  your  foes  in  the  van, 
And  in  the  midst  of  your  dangers  or  errors 

Trust  like  a  child,  while  you  strive  like  a  mail 
All's  for  the  best!  —  unbiass'd,  unbounded, 

Providence  reigns  from  the  East  to  the  West,* 
And,  by  both  wisdom  and  mercy  surrounded, 

Hope  and  be  happy  that  All's  for  the  best! 


THE    RIDDLE    READ. 

WORLD  of  sorrow,  care,  and  change, 

Even  to  .myself  I  seem, 
As  adown  thy  vale  I  range, 

Wandering  in  a  dream : 

All  things  are  so  strange. 

For,  the  dead  who  died  this  day, 
Fair  and  young,  or  great  and  good, 

Though  we  mourn  them,  where  are  they  ? 
— With  those  before  the  flood; 
Equally  past  away. 

Living  hearts  have  scantly  time 
To  feel  some  other  heart  most  dear, 

Scarce  can  love  the  love  sublime 

.    Unselfishly  sincere, — 
Death  nips  it  in  its  prime! 

Minds  have  hardly  power  to  learn 
How  much  there  is  to  know  aright, 

Can  dimly  thro'  the  mist  discern 
Some  little  glimpse  of  light, — 
The  order  is,  Return! 


HACTENUS. 

Willing  hands  but  just  begin 
Wisely  to  work  for  God  and  man, 

And  some  poor  wages  barely  win 
As  one  who  well  began, — 
The  Master  calls,  Come  in! 

Well,  —  this  is  well :  for  well-begun 
Is  all  the  good  man  here  may  do; 

He  cannot  hope  to  see  half-done; 
A  furlong  is  crept  through, 
And  lo,  the  goal  is  won ! 

This  is  the  life  of  sight  "and  sense, 
And  other  brighter  lives  depend 

On  all  we  here  can  just  commence 
But  long  before  an  end 
God  calls  his  servant  hence. 

* 

Take  courage,  courage :  not  in  vain 
The  Ruler  has  appointed  thus; 

Account  it  neither  grief  nor  pain 
His  mercy  spareth  us  — 
It  is  the  laborer's  gain. 

Here  we  begin  to  love  and  knoir; 

And  when  God's  willing  grace  perceives 
The  plant  of  heav'n  hath  roots  to  grow, 

He  plucks  the  ranker  leaves, 

And  doth  transplant  it  BO! 


,*» 


OLD    HAUNTS  —  THE    BATTLE  OF   ROLEIA,          293 


OLD    HAUNTS. 

FOR    MUSIC. 

I  LOVE  to  linger  on  my  track 

Wherever  I  have  dwelt, 
In  after  years  to  loiter  back, 

And  feel  as  once  I  felt ; 
My  foot  falls  lightly  on  the  sward, 

Yet  leaves  a  deathless  dint, 
With  tenderness  I  still  regard 

Its  unforgotten  print. 

Old  places  have  a  charm  for  me 

The  new  can  ne'er  attain, 
Old  faces  —  how  I  long  to  see 

Their  kindly  looks  again! 
Yet,  these  are  gone  :  —  while  all  arouna 

Is  changeable  as  air, 
I'll  anchor  in  the  solid  ground, 

And  root  my  memories  there! 


THE    BATTLE    OF    ROLEIA 

.Ye  children  of  the  veterans 

Who  fought  for  faithless  Spain, 
And  for  ungrateful  Portugal 

Pour'd  out  their  blood  like  rain,  — 
Come  near  me,  and  hear  me, 

For  I  would  tell  you  well 
How  gallantly  your  fathers  fought, 

Or  gloriously  they  fell ! 


HACTENUS. 

I  sing  Roleia's  bloody  strife, 

The  first  of  many  frays 
When  iron  Wellesley  led  us  on 

Invincible  always ; 
Roleia  gay  and  ever  green, 

Festooned  with  vines  and  flowers, 
Roleia,  scorch'd  and  blood-bedew' d,  — * 

And  half  that  blood  was  ours! 

The  seventeenth  of  August, 

It  shone  out  bright  and  clear, 
And  still  we  press'd  the  Frenchman's  flank, 

And  hung  upon  his  rear: 
From  Brilos  and  Obidos 

Had  we  driven  the  bold  Laborde, 
And  now  among  the  mountain  rocks 

We  sought  him  with  the  sword ! 

All  golden  is  the  plain  with  wheat, 

All  purple  are  the  hills, 
With  luscious  vineyards  ripe  and  sweet, 

And  laced  with  crystal  rills ; 
Yet  must  the  rills  run  down  with  gore, 

The  corn  be  trampled  red, 
Before  Roleia's  threshing-floor 

Is  glutted  with  her  dead ! 

O  cheerily  the  bugles  spoke, 

And  all  our  hearts  beat  high 
When  over  Monte  Junto  broke 

The  sun  upon  the  sky; 
Right  early  from  Obidos 

We  gladly  sallied,  then 
A  goodly  host,  in  columns  three, 

Of  fourteen  thousand  men. 

Brave  Ferguson  led  on  the  left, 

And  Trant  the  flanking  right, 

With  iron  Arthur  in  the  midst, 


THE   BATTLE    OF   HOLEIA. 

The  focus  of  the  fight; 
And  fast  by  Wellesley's  gallant  side 

The  Craufurd  rode  amain, 
And  Hill,  the  British  soldier's  pride, 

And  Nightingale,  and  Fane. 

Crouching  like  a  tiger, 

In  his  high  and  rocky  lair, 
The  Frenchman  howled  and  showed  his  teeth, 

And  —  wished  he  wasn't  there  ; 
For  Craufurd,  Hill,  and  Nightingale, 

Flew  at  him  as  he  lay, 
And  up  our  gallant  fellows  sprang 

As  bloodhounds  on  the  prey! 

And,  look !  we  hunt  the  bold  Laborde 

To  Zambugeira's  height  — 
While  Trant  with  Fane  and  Ferguson 

Outflank  him  left  and  right ; 
And  then  with  cheers  we  charge  the  front, 

With  cheers  the  foe  reply, — 
No  child's  play  was  that  battle  brunt, 

We  swore  to  win  or  die ! 

Rattled  loud  the  muskets'  roar, — 

We  struggled  man  to  man, — 
The  rugged  rocks  were  washed  in  gore, 

With  gore  the  gullies  ran ! 
Fiercely  through  those  mountain  paths 

Our  bloody  way  we  force, — 
And  find  in  strength  upon  the  heights 

The  Frenchman,  foot  and  horse ; 

Ah,  then,  my  Ninth,  and  Twenty-ninth, 

Your  courage  was  too  hot, 
For  down  on  your  disordered  ranks 

Secure  they  pour  the  shot; 
But  all  their  horse  and  foot  and  guns 

Could  never  make  you  fly, — 


HACTENUS. 

The  losing  Frenchman  fights  and  runs, 
But  Britons  fight — and  die! 

Up  to  the  rescue,  Ferguson! 

And  keep  the  hard-fought  hill; 
Their  chiefs  are  picked  off,  one  by  one, 

And  lo,  they  rally  still ; 
They  rally,  and  rush  stoutly  on, — 

The  bold  Laborde  gives  way,  — 
The  day  is  lost!   the  day  is  won! 

And  ours  is  the  day! 

Then,  well  retreating,  sage  and  slow, 

Alternately  in  mass 
With  charging  horse,  the  wily  foe 

Gains  Runa's  rocky  pass ; 
And  left  us  thus  Roleia's  field, 

With  other  fields  in  store, 
Vimiera,  Torres  Vedras, — 

And  half  a  hundred  more ! 


RETROSPECT. 

How  many  years  are  fled,— 
How  many  friends  are  dead: 

Alas,  how  fast 

The  past  hath  past, — 
How  speedily  life  hath  sped! 

Places,  that  knew  me  of  yore, 

Know  me  for  their's  no  more, 

And  sore  at  the  change 

Quite  strange  I  range 

Where  I  was  at  home  before. 


PEACE   AND    QUIETNESS.  297 

• 
Thoughts  and  things  each  day 

Seem  to  be  fading  away ; 

Yet  this  is,  I  wot, 

Their  lot  to  be  not 
Continuing  in  one  stay. 

A  mingled  mesh  it  seems 
Of  «facts  and  fancy's  gleams; 

I  scarce  have  power 

From  hour  to  hour 
To  separate  things  from  dreams. 

Darkly,  as  in  a  glass, 

Like  a  vain  shadow  they  pass; 

Their  ways  they  wend         • 

And  tend  to  an  end, 
The  goal  of  life,  alas ! 

Alas  ?  and  wherefere  so  ?  — 
Be  glad  for  this  passing  show: 

The  world  and  its  lust 

Back  must  to  their  dust 
Before  the  soul  can  grow. 

Expand  !  my  willing  mind, 
Thy  nobler  life  to  find, 

Thy  childhood  leave 

Nor  grieve  to  bereave 
Thine  age  of  toys  behind. 


PEACE    AND    QUIETNESS. 

PEACE  is  the  precious  atmosphere  I  breathe; 

And  my  calm  mind  goes  to  her  dewy  bower, 
A  trellis  rare  of  fragrant  thoughts  to  wreathe, 

Mingling  the  scents  and  tints  of  every  flower; 


HACTENUS. 

For  pity,  vex  her  not :  those  inner  joys 

That  bless  her  in  this  consecrated  hour, 
Start  and  away,  like  plovers,  at  a  noise, 
Sensitive,  timorous :  —  O  do  not  scare 

My  happy  fancies,  lest  the  flock  take  wing, 
Fly  to  the  wilderness  and  perish  there ! 

For  I  have  secret  luxuries,  that  bring 
Gladness  and  brightness  to  mine  eyes  and  heart, 

Memory,  and  Hope,  and  keen  Imagining, 
Sweet  thoughts  and  peaceful,  never  to  depart 

THEN  give  me  Silence ;  for  my  spirit  is  rare, 
Of  delicate  edge  and  tender :  when  I  think 

I  rear  aloft  a  mental  fabric  fair; 

But  so»n  as  words  come  hurtling  on  the  air, 
Down  to  this  dust  my  ruined  fancies  sink : 
Look  you !  on  yonder  Alp's  precipitous  brink 

An  avalanche,  is  tottering ;  —  one  breath 
Loosens  an  icy  chain ;  —  it  falls,  —  it  falls, 

Filling  the  buried  glens  and  glades  with  death ! 

Or  as,  when  on  the  mountain's  granite  walls 
The  hunter  spies  a  chamois,  —  hush!  be  calm, 

A  word  will  scare  it,  —  even  so,  my  Mind 
Creative,  energizing,  seeks  the  balm 

Of  Quiet:  Solitude  and  Peace  combin'd. 


THE     £*J'T.,Y    GALLOP. 
(Written  in  tiff  saddle,  on  the  crown  of  my  hat.) 

AT  five  on  a  dewy  morning, 

Before  the  blazing  day, 
To  be  up  and  off  on  a  high-mettled  horse, 

Over  the  hills  away, — 
To  drink  the  rich,  sw6et  breath  of  the  gorse, 

And  bathe  in  the  breeze  of  the  Downs, 


ASCOT:    JUNE    3,    1847.  —  WHEN   HERO    WON.       299 

Ha!  man,  if  you  can,  match  bliss  like  this 
In  all  the  joys  of  towns ! 

With  glad  and  grateful  tongue  to  join 

The  lark  at  his  matin  hymn, 
And  thence  on  faith's  own  wing  to  spring 

And  sing  with  Cherubim ! 
To  pray  from  a  deep  and  tender  heart, 

With  all  things  praying  anew, 
The  birds  and  the  bees,  and  the  whispering  trees, 

And  heather  bedropt  with  dew, — 
To  be  one  with  those  early  worshippers 

And  pour  the  psean  too ! 

Then,  off  again  with  a  slackened  rein,   . 

And  a  bounding  heart  within, 
To  dash  at  a  gallop  over  the  plain, 

Health's  golden  cup  to  win ! 
This,  this  is  the  race  for  gain  and  grace 

Richer  than  vases  and  crowns ; 
And  you  that  boast  your  pleasures  the  most, 

Amid  the  steam  of  towns, 
Come  taste  true  bliss  in  a  morning  like  this, 

Galloping  over  the  Downs ! 


ASCOT:     JUNE    3,     1847.  — WHEN    HERO    WON 

MODERN  Olympia !  shorn  of  all  their  pride  — 
The  patriot  spirit,  and  unlucred  praise  — 
Thou  art  a  type  of  these  degenerate  days 

When  love  of  simple  honor  all  hath  died; 

Oh  dusty,  gay,  and  eager  multitude, 
Agape  for  gold  —  No  !   do  not  thus  condemn ; 

For  hundreds  here  are  innocent,  and  good, 

And  young,  and  fair,  among,  —  but  not  of —  them ; 


300  HACTENUS. 

And  hundreds  more  enjoy,  with  gratitude, 
This  well-earned  holiday,  so  bright  and  green: 
Do  not  condemn !   it  is  a  stirring  scene, 

Though  vanity  and  folly  fill  it  up: 

Look,  how  the  mettled  racers  please  the  Queen 

Ha,  brave  John  Day  —  a  Hero  wins  the  cup! 


LIFE. 

Hold  yaQ  fj  £a»;  f^fiSv  ;    &Tfilf. 

A  BUST  dream,  forgotten  ere  it  fades, 

A  vapor  melting  into  air  away, 
Vain  hopes,  vain  fears,  a  mesh  of  lights  and  shades, 

A  chequered  labyrinth  of  night  and  day, 
This  is  our  life ;  a  rapid,  surgy  flood     ,    « •  , 

Where  each  wave  haunts  its  fellow ;  on  they  press ; 
To-day  is  yesterday,  and  hope's  young  bud 

Has  fruited  a  to-morrow's  nothingness : 
Still  on  they  press,  and  we  are  borne  along, 

Forgetting  and  forgotten,  trampling  down 
The  living  and  the  dead  in  that  fierce  throng, 

With  little  heed  of  Heaven's  smile  'or  frown, 
And  little  care  for  others'  right  or  wrong, 
So  we  in  iron  selfishness  stand  strong. 


WATERLOO. 

THERMOPYLAE  and  Canse 
Were  glorious  fields  of  yore. 

Leonidas  and  Hannibal 
Right  famous  evermore;        , 


WATERLOO.  301 

But  we  can  claim  a  nobler  name, 

A  field  more  glorious  too, 
The  chief  who  thus  achieved  for  us 

Victorious  Waterloo. 

Let  others  boast  of  Cassar's  host 

Led  on  by  Cesar's  skill, 
And  how  fierce  Attila  could  rout, 

And  Alaric  could  kill;  — 
But  we  —  right  well,  O  hear  me  tell 

What  British  troops  can  do, 
When  marshalled  by  a  Wellington, 

To  win  a  Waterloo  ! 

O  for  a  Pindar's  harp  to  tune 

The  triumphs  of  that  day ! 
O  for  a  Homer's  pictured  words 

To  paint  the  fearful  fray !  — 
Alas,  my  tongue  and  harp  ill-strung 

In  feeble  tones  and  few, 
Hath  little  skill  —  yet  right  good  will 

To  sing  of  Waterloo. 

Then  gather  round,  ray  comrades, 

And  hear  a  soldier  tell 
How  full  of  honor  was  the  day 

When  —  every  man  did  well ! 
And  though  a  soldier's  speech  be  rough, 

His  heart  is  hot  and  true, 
While  thus  he  tells  of  Wellington, 

At  hard-fought  Waterloo. 

Sublimely  calm,  our  iron  Duke, 

A  lion  in  his  lair, 
Waited  and  watched  with  sleepless  eye 

To  see  what  France  would  dare, 
Nor  deign'd  to  stir  from  Brussels 

Until  he  surely  knew 


302  HACTENUS. 

The  foe  was  rushing  on  his  fate 
At  chosen  Waterloo. 

What?  should  the  hunter  waste  his  strength, 
Nor  hold  bis  good  hounds  back 

Before  he  knows  they  near  the  foes 
And  open  on  the  track  ? 

No :   let  "  surprise  "  blight  Frenchmen's  eyes, 
For  truly  they  shall  rue 

The  giant  skill  that,  stern  and  still, 

Drew  them  to  Waterloo ! 

•^ 

Hotly  the  couriers  gallop  up 

To  Richmond's  festive  scene, — 
Alone,  alone  the  chieftain  stood 

Undaunted  and  serene; 
Ready,  ready,  —  staunch  and  steady,— 

And  forth  the  orders  flew 
That  marched  us  off  to  Quatre  Bras, 

And  whelming  Waterloo. 

Begin,  begin  with  Quatre  Bras, 

That  twin-born  field  of  fame 
Where  many  a  gallant  deed  was  done 

By  many  a  gallant  name, 
That  battle-field,  which  seemed  to  yield 

An  earnest  and  review 
Of  all  that  British  courage  dared 

And  did  at  Waterloo. 

We  heard  from  far  old  Blucher's  guns, 

At  Ligny's  blazing  street, 
And  hurried  on  to  Weimar's  aid, 

Right  glad  the  foe  to  meet; 
A  score  of  miles  to  Quatre  Bras; 

But  still  to  arms  we  stood, 
And  cheerly  rushed  without  a  pause 

To  win  the  Boissy  wood  • 


WATERLOO.  80S 

Then,  just  like  cowards,  three  to  one, 

Before  we  could  deploy, 
To  crush  us,  Ney  and  Excelmans 

Flew  down  with  fiendish  joy ; 
But  stout  we  stood  in  hollow  squares, 

And  fought,  and  kept  the  ground, 
While  lancer  spears  and  cuirassiers 

Were  charging  us  all  round: 

Aye,  aye,  my  men,  we  battled  then 

Like  wolves  and  bears  at  bay, 
And  thousands  there  among  the  dead 

With  sable  Brunswick  lay: 
And  back  to  back  in  that  attack 

The  Ninety  second  fought,  — 
And  "steadily"  the  Twenty-eighth 

Behaved  as  Britons  ought 

Then  up  came  Maitland  with  the  guards, 

Hurrah !  they  clear  the  wood ; 
But  still  the  furious  Frenchman  charged, 

And  still  we  stoutly  stood, 
Till  gently  night  drew  on,  and  that 

Drew  off  the  treacherous  Ney, 
For  when  the  morning  dimly  broke 

—  The  fox  had  stole  away! 

This  much,  my  lads,  for  Quatre  Bras, 

And  now  for  Waterloo, 
Where  skill  and  courage  did  it  all, 

With  God's  good  help  in  view ! 
For  we  were  beardless,  raw  recruits, 

And  they,  more  numerous  far, 
Were  fierce,  mustachioed  miglity  men, 

The  veterans  of  war. 

The  God  of  battles  help'd  us  soon, 
As  godless  France  drew  nigh, 


HACTENUS. 

It  was  the  great  eighteenth  of  June, 

The  sun  was  getting  high;  — 
And  suddenly  two  hundred  guns 

At  once,  with  thundering  throats, 
Peal'd  out  their  dreadful  overture 

In  deep  volcano  notes ! 

Then,  by  ten  thousands,  horse  and  foot, 

Came  on  the  foaming  Gau., 
And  still  with  bristling  front  we  stood 

As  solid  as  a  wall : 
And  stout  Macdonnell's   Hougoumont, 

The  centre  of  the  van, 
Was  storm'd  and  storm'd  and  storm'd  —  in  vain, 

—  He  held  it  like  a  man! 

O  who  can  count  the  myriad  deeds 

That  hundreds  did  in  fight  ? 
Ponsonby  falls,  and  Picton  bleeds, 

And  —  both  are  quenched  in  night: 
And  many  a  hero  subaltern 

And  hero  private  too 
Beat  Ajax  and  Achilles  both 

In  winning  Waterloo! 

What  shall  I  say  on  that  dread  day 

Of  Ferrier  and  his  band? 
Ten  times  he  chased  the  foes  away, 

And  charged  them  sword  in  hand; 
Six  of  those  ten  he  led  his  men 

With  blood  upon  his  brow, — 
And  weakly  in  the  eleventh  died 

To  live  in  glory  now ! 

Or,  give  a  stave  to  Shaw  the  brave, 

—  In  death  the  hero  sleeps, — 
Hemm'd  by  a  score,  he  knockd  them  o'er, 

And  hewed  them  down  in  heaps; 


WATERLOO.  305 

Till,  wearied  out,  the  lion  stout 

Beset  as  by  a  pack 
Of  hungry  hounds,  fell  full  of  wounds, 

But  none  upon  his  back ! 

And  Halket  then  before  his  men 

Dash'd  forward,  and  made  prize 
(While  both  the  lines  in  wonderment 

Could  scarce  believe  their  eyes) 
Of  a  gaily-plumed  French  General 

Haranguing  his  array; 
But  Halket  caught  him,  speech  and  all, 

And  bore  him  right  away ! 

Thee  too,  De  Lancey,  generous  chief, 

For  thee  a  niche  be  found, — 
Wounded  to  death,  he  scorn'd  relief 

Whilst  others  bled  around; 
And  D'Oyley  and  Fitzgerald  died, 

Just  as  the  day  was  won, — 
And  Gordon,  by  his  general's  side  — 

The  side  of  Wellington! 

And  Somerset  and  Uxbridge  then 

Gave  each  a  limb  to  death ; 
Curzon  and  Canning  cheered  their  men 

With  their  last  dying  breath ; 
And  gallant  Miller,  stricken  sore, 

With  fainting  utterance  cries, 
"  Bring  me  my  colors !   wave  them  o'er 

Your  colonel  till  he  dies ! " 

Then  furious  waxed  the  Emperor 

That  Britons  wouldn't  run, 
"  Les  betes,  pourquoi  ne  fuient  ils  pas  ? 

Et  done,  ce  Vellington  ?  " 
But  Vellington  still  holds  his  own 

For  eight  red  hours  and  more,   • 


HACTENUS. 

"Why  comes  not  Marshal  Blucher  down? 
—  Ha !  —  there's  his  cannons'  roar,  — 

"Up,  guards,  and  at  them!  charge!"  —  the  word 

Like  forked  lightning  passes, 
And  lance,  and  bayonet,  and  sword 

Rush  on  in  glittering  masses ! 
Back,  back,  the  surging  columns  roll 

In  terrified  dismay, 
And  onward  shout  against  the  rout 

The  conquerors  of  the  day! 

O  now,  the  tide  of  battle 

Is  turn'd  to  seas  of  blood, 
When  case  and  grape  shot  rattle 

Among  the  multitude, 
And  Fates,  led  on  by  Furies, 

Destroy  the  flying  host, 
And  Chaos,  mated  with  Despair, 

Makes  all  the  lost  most  lost ! 

Woe,  woe !   thou  catiff-hero, 

Thou  Emperor  —  and  slave, 
Why  didst  not  thou,  too,  nobly  bleed 

With  those  devoted  brave  ? 
No,  no,  the  coward's  thought  was  self, 

And  "sauve  qui  peut"  his  cry, 
And  verily  at  Waterloo 

Did  Great  Napoleon  die ! 

And  died  to  fame,  while  yet  his  name 

Was  on  ten  thousand  tongues 
That  trusted  him,  and  pray'd  to  him, 

And  —  curs'd  him  for  their  wrongs ! 
O  noble  souls!   Imperial  Guard, 

Had  your  chief  been  but  true, 
Ye  would  have  stood  and  stopp'd  the  rout 

At  crushing  Waterloo. 


WATERLOO.  307 

Still  as  they  fled  from  Wellington 

To  Blucher's  arms  they  flew ; 
These  two  made  up  the  Quatre  Bras 

To  clutch  a  Waterloo ! 
Ha!   Blucher's  Prussian  vengeance 

Was  fully  sated  then, 
When  hated  France  upon  the  field 

Left  forty  thousand  men. 

Thus,  comrades,  hath  a  soldier  told 

What  Wellington's  calm  skill, 
When  help'd  by  troops  of  British  mould 

And  GOD'S  almighty  will, 
Against  a  veteran  triple  force 

In  battle-field  can  do :  — 
Then,  three  times  three  for  Wellington, 

The  Prince  of  Waterloo! 


'  ARE    YOU    A    GREAT    READER?" 

I  HOPE  to  ripen  into  richer  wine 

Than  mixed  Falernian ;  those  decantered  streams 
Pour'd  from  another's  chalice  into  thine 

Make  less  of  wisdom  than  the  scholar  dreams ; 
Precept  on  precept,  tedious  line  on  line, 

That  never-thinking,  ever-reading  plan 

Fashion  some  patchwork  garments  for  a  man, 
But  starve  his  mind :  it  starves  of  too  much  meat, 

An  undigested  surfeit ;  as  for  me 
I  am  untamed,  a  spirit  free  and  fleet 

That  cannot  brook  the  studious  yoke,  nor  be 
Like  some  dull  grazing  ox  without  a  soul, 

But  feeling  racer's  shoes  upon  my  feet, 
Before  my  teacher  starts,  I  touch  the  goal. 


HACTENUS. 


THE     VERDICT. 

I  LEAVE  all  judgments  to  that  better  world 

And  my  more  righteous  Judges  for  He  shall  tell 

In  the  dread  day  when  from  their  thrones  are  hurl'd 
Each  human  tyranny  and  earthly  spell, 
That  which  alone  of  all  He  knoweth  well  — 

The  heart's  own  secret ;  He  shall  tell  it  out 
With  all  the  feelings  and  the  sorrows  there, 

The  fears  within,  the  foes  that  hemm'd  without, 
Neglect,  and  wrong,  and  calumny  and  care : 
For  He  hath  saved  thine  every  tearful  pray'r 

In  His  own  lachrymal ;   and  noted  down 

Each  unconsidered  grief  with  tenderest  love : 

Look  up !   beyond  the  cross  behold  the  crown, 
And  for  all  wrongs  below  all  rights  above! 


GUERNSEY. 

GUERNSEY!   to  me  and  in  my  partial  eyes 

Thou  art  a  holy  and  enchanted  isle, 

Where  I  would  linger  long,  and  muse  the  while 
Of  ancient  thoughts  and  solemn  memories, 

Quickening  the  tender  tear  or  pensive  smile : 
Guernsey !  —  for  nearly  thrice  a  hundred  years 
Home  of  my  fathers !  refuge  from  their  fears, 

And  haven  to  their  hope,  —  when  long  of  yore 
Fleeing  Imperial  Charles  and  bloody  Rome 

Protestant  martyrs,  to  thy  seagirt  shore 
They  came  to  seek  a  temple  and  a  home, 

And  found  thee  generous,  —  I  their  son  would  pour 
My  heart  full  all  of  praise  and  thanks  to  thee, 
Island  of  welcomes,  —  friendly,  frank,  .and  free! 


ALL'S   EIGHT  — THE    COMPLAINT.  309 

* 

ALL'S    RIGHT. 

0    FOR    MUSIC. 

O  NEVER  despair  at  the  troubles  of  life, 

All's  right! 
In  the  midst  of  anxiety,  peril,  and  strife, 

All's  right! 

The  cheerful  philosophy  never  was  wrong 
That  ever  puts  this  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue 
And  makes  it  my  glory,  my  strength,  and  my  song, 

All's  right! 

The  Pilot  beside  us  is  steering  us  still, 

All's  right! 
The  Champion  above  us  is  guarding  from  ill, 

All's  right! 

Let  others  who  know  neither  Father  nor  Friend 
Go  trembling  and  doubting  in  fear  to  the  end,  — 
For  me,  on  this  motto  I  gladly  depend, 

All's  right! 


THE  COMPLAINT  OF  AN  ANCIENT  BRITON 

DISINTERRED    BT    ARCHAEOLOGISTS. 

Two  thousand  years  agone 

They  heaped  my  battle  grave, 
And  each  a  tear  and  each  a  stone, 

My  mourning  warriors  gave ; 
For  I  had  borne  me  well, 

And  fought  as  patriots  fight, 
Till,  like  a  British  chief,  I  fell 

Contending  for  the  right 


310  HACTENUS. 

• 
Seamed  with  many  a  wound, 

All  weakly  did  I  lie; 
My  foes  were  dead  or  dying  round,— 

And  thus  I  joyed  to  die  ! 
For  their  marauding  crew  « 

Came  treacherously  to  kill, — 
The  many  came  against  the  few 

To  storm  our  sacred  hill. 
We  battled  and  bled, 

We  won,  and  paid  the  price, 
For  I,  the  chief,  lay  down  with  the  dead, 

A  willing  sacrifice ! 
My  liegemen  wailed  me  long, 

And  treasured  up  my  bones, 
And  reared  my  kist  secure  and  strong 

With  tributary  stones : 
High  on  the  breezy  down 

My  native  hill's  own  breast 
Nigh  to  the  din  of  mine  ancient  town, 

They  left  me  to  my  rest. 
I  hoped  for  peace  and  calm 

Until  my  judgment  hour, 
And  then  to  awake  for  the  victor's  palm 

And  patriot's  throne  of  power! 
And  lo,  till  this  dark  day 

Did  men  my  grave  revere: 
Two  thousand  years  had  passed  away, 

And  still  I  slumbered  here : 
But  now,  there  broke  a  noise 

Upon  my  silent  home, 
'Twas  not  the  Resurrection  voice 

That  burst  my  turfy  tomb, — 
But  men  of  prying  mind, 

Alas,  my  fellow  men, 
Ravage  my  grave,  my  bones  to  find 

With  sacreligious  ken! 
Mine  honor  doth  abjure 

Your  new  barbarian  race ; 
Restore,  restore  my  bones  secure 


FARLEY   HEATH.  an 

To  some  more  secret  place ! 
With  mattock  and  with  spade 

Ye  dare  to  break  my  rest; 
The  pious  mound  is  all  unmade 

My  clan  had  counted  blest : 
Take,  take,  my  buckler's  boss, 

My  sword,  and  spear,  and  chain, — 
Steal  all  ye  can  of  this  world's  dross, 

But  —  rest  my  bones  again ! 
I  know  your  modern  boast 

Is  light,  and  learning's  spread, — 
Learn  of  a  Celt  to  show  them  most,' 

In  honor  to  the  Dead! 


FARLEY    HEATH, 

NEAR    ALBURY. 

MANY  a  day  have  I  whiled  away 

Upon  hopeful  Farley  heath, 
In  its  antique  soil  digging  for  spoil 

Of  possible  treasure  beneath ; 
For  Celts,  and  querns,  and  funeral  urns, 

And  rich  red  Samian  ware, 
And  sculptured  stonesx  and  centurion's  bones 

May  all  lie  buried  there! 

How  calmly  serene,  and  glad  have  I  been 

From  morn  till  eve  to  stay, 
My  Surrey  serfs  turning  the  turfs 

The  happy  live-long  day; 
With  eye  still  bright,  and  hope  yet  alight, 

Wistfully  watching  the  mould 
•  As  the  spade  brings  up  fragments  of  things 

Fifteen  centuries  old! 


HACTENUS. 

Pleasant  and  rare  it  was  to  be  there 

On  a  joyous  day  of  June, 
With  the  circling  scene  all  gay  and  green 

Steep'd  in  the  silent  noon ; 
When  beauty  distils  from  the  calm  glad  hills, — 

From  the  downs-  and  dimpling  vales 
And  every  grove,  lazy  with  love, 

Whispereth  tenderest  tales ! 

O  then  to  look  back  upon  Time's  old  track, 

And  dream  of  the  days  long  past, 
When  Rome  leant  here  on  his  sentinel  spear, 

And  loud  was  the  clarion's  blast  — 
As  wild  and  shrill  from  Martyr's  hill 

Echoed  the  patriot  shout, 
Or  rushed  pell-mell  with  a  midnight  yell 

The  rude  barbarian  rout ! 

Yes ;   every  stone  has  a  tale  of  its  own  — 

A  volume  of  old  lore ; 
And  this  white  sand  from  many  a  brand 

Has  polished  gouts  of  gore ; 
When  Holmbury-height  had  its  beacon  light, 

And  Cantii  held  old  Leith, 
And  Rome  stood  then  with  his  iron  men 

On  ancient  Farley  heath ! 

How  many  a  group  of  that  exiled  troop 

Have  here  sung  songs  of  home, 
Chanting  aloud  to  a  wondering  crowd 

The  glories  of  old  Rome ! 
Or  lying  at  length  have  bask'd  their  strength 

Amid  this  heather  and  gorse, 
Or  down  by  the  well  in  the  larch-grown  dell 

Watered  the  brack  war-horse! 

Look,  look !  my  day-dream  right  ready  would  seem 
The  past  with  the  present  to  join, — 


WISDOM. 

For  see!  I  have  found  in  this  rare  ground 

An  eloquent  green  old  coin, 
With  turquoise  rust  on  its  Emperor's  bust, — 

Some  Csesar,  august  Lord; 
And  the  legend  terse,  and  the  classic  reverse, 

"  Victory,  valor's  reward !  —  " 

Victory,  —  yes  !  and  happiness, 

Kind  comrade,  to  me  and  to  you, 
When  such  rich  spoil  has  crowned  our  toil 

And  proved  the  day-dream  true ; 
With  hearty  acclaim  how  we  hail'd  by  his  name 

The  Csesar  of  that  coin, 
And  told  with  a  shout  his  titles  out, 

And  drank  his  health  in  wine ! 

And  then  how  blest  the  noon-day  rest 

Reclined  on  a  grassy  bank, 
With  hungry  cheer  and  the  brave  old  beer 

Better  than  Odin  drank ; 
And  the  secret  balm  of  the  spirit  at  calm, 

And  poetry,  hope,  and  health, — 
Aye,  have  I  not  found  in  that  rare  ground 

A  mine  of  more  than  wealth? 


WISDOM. 

IT  is  the  way  we  go,  the  way  of  life , 

A  drop  of  pleasure  in  a  sea  of  pain, 
A  grain  of  peace  amid  a  load  of  strife, 

With  toil  and  grief,  and  grief  and  toil  again: 
Yea:  —  but  for  this;  the  firm  and  faithful  breast, 

Bolder  than  lion's,  confident  and  strong, 
That  never  doubts  its  birthright  to  be  blest, 

And  dreads  no  evil  while  it  does  no  wrong: 
14 


HACTENUS. 

This,  this  is  wisdom,  manful  and  serene, 

Towards  God  all  penitence  and  prayer  and  trust, 

But  to  the  troubles  of  this  shifting  scene 
Simply  courageous  and  sublimely  just: 

Be  then  such  wisdom  thine,  my  heart  within, — 

There  is  no  foe  nor  woe  nor  grief  but  —  Sin. 


THE    HEART'S    HUSBAND. 

FOR    MUSIC. 

Go,  leave  me  to  weep  for  the  years  that  are  past, 

For  my  youth,  and  its  friends,  and  its  pleasures  all  dead, 
My  spring  and  my  summer  are  fading  too  fast, 

And  I  long  to  live  over  the  days  that  are  fled ; 
It  is  not  for  sorrows  or  sins  on  my  track 

That  I  mournfully  cast  my  fond  yearnings  behind,  — 
—  Ah,  no,  —  from  affection  I  love  to  look  back, 

It  is  only  my  heart  that  has  wedded  my  Mind. 

And  still,  let  the  Mind  that  has  married  a  Heart 

Though  loving,  be  strong  as  a  King  in  his  pride, 
And  ever  command  that  all  weakness  depart 

From  the  realm  that  he  rules  in  the  soul  of  his  bride; 
For  what,  if  all  time  and  all  pleasures  decay  ? 

My  Mind  is  myself,  an  invincible  chief, — 
Like  a  child's  broken  toys  are  the  years  past  away, 

And  my  Heart,  half-ashamed,  has  forgotten  her  grief. 


PROPHETS  —  WHEAT-CORN,  AND    CHAFF.  315 


PROPHETS. 

PROPHETS  at  home,  —  I  smile  to  note  your  -wrongs; 

How  scantly  praised  at  each  ancestral  hearth 
Are  ye,  caress'd  by  million  hearts  and  tongues, 

And  full  of  honors  over  half  the  earth: 
O  petty  jealousies  and  paltry  strife! 

The  little  minds  that  chronicle  a  birth 
Stood  once  for  teachers  in  the  task  of  life ; 

But,  as  the  child  of  genius  grew  apace, 
Dismay'd  at  his  gigantic  lineaments, 

They  feared  to  find  his  glory  their  disgrace, 

His  mind  their  master:  so  their  worldly  aim 

Is  still  to  vex  him  with  discouragements, 

To  check  the  springtide  budding  of  his  fame, 

And  keep  it  down  to  save  themselves  a  name 


WHEAT-CORN,    AND    CHAFF. 

Mr  little  learning  fadeth  fast  away, 

And  all  the  host  of  words  and  forms  and  rules 
Bred  in  my  teeming  youth  of  books  and  schools 
Dwindle  to  less  and  lighter;  night  and  day 
I  dream  of  tasks  undone,  and  lore  forgot, 

Seeming  some  sailor  in  the  "ship  of  fools," 
Some  debtor  owing  what  he  cannot  pay, 
Some  Conner  of  old  themes  remembered  not 
Despise  such  small  oblivion;  'tis  the  lot 

Of  human  life,  amid  its  chance  and  change 
To  learn,  and  the,n  nnlearn ;  to  seek  and  find, 

And  then  to  lose  familiars  grown  quite  strange: 
Store  up,  store  wisdom's  corn  in  heart  and  mind, 
But  fling  the  chaff  on  every  winnowing  wind. 


316  HACTENTJS. 


THE    HAPPY    MAN. 

A  MAN  of  no  regrets, 

He  goes  his  sunny  way 
Owing  the  past  no  load  of  debts 

The  present  cannot  pay: 
He  wedded  his  first  love, 

Nor  loved  another  since ; 
He  sets  his  nobler  hopes  above; 

He  reigns  in  joy  a  Prince ! 

A  man  of  no  regrets, 

He  hath  no  cares  to  vex, 
No  secret  griefs,  nor  mental  nets 

Nor  troubles  to  perplex; 
Forgiveness  to  his  sin, 

And  help  in  every  need, 
Blessing  around,  and  peace  within, 

Crown  him  a  King  indeed ! 

A  man  of  no  regrets, 

Upon  his  Empire  free 
The  sun  of  gladness  never  sets,— 

Then  who  so  rich  as  he? 
Yea,  GOD  upon  my  heart 

Hath  poured  all  blessings  down; 
Then  yield  to  Him,  with  all  thou  art, 

The  homage  of  thy  crown! 


HERALDIC.  317 


HERALDIC. 

HIGH  in  Battle's  antlered  hall 

Ancient  as  its  Abbey  wall, 

Hangs  a  helmet,  brown  with  rust, 

Cobweb'd  o'er,  and  thick  in  dust 

High  it  hangs,  'mid  pikes  and  bows 

Scowling  still  at  spectral  foes, 

Proud  and  stern,  with  vizor  down, 

And  fearful  in  its  feudal  frown. 

When  I  saw  what  ail'd  thee,  heart, 

Wherefore  should  I  stop  and  start? 

That  old  helm,  with  that  old  crest, 

Is  more  to  me  than  all  the  rest ; 

Battered,  broken,  though  it  be, 

That  old  helm  is  all  to  me. 

Yon  black  greyhound  knoweth  well: 

Many  a  tale  hath  it  to  tell 

How  in  troublous  times  of  old 

Sires  of  mine,  with  bearing  bold, 

Bearing  bold,  but  much  mischance,. 

Sway'd  the  sword,  or  poised  the  lance, — 

Much  mischance,  desponding  still, 

They  fought  and  fell,  foreboding  ill: 

And  their  scallop,  gules  with  blood, 

Fessed  amid  the  azure  flood, 

Show'd  the  pilgrim,  slain  afar 

O'er  the  sea,  in  Holy  War: 

While  that  faithful  greyhound  black 

Vainly  watch'd  the  wild  boar's  track ; 

And  the  legend  and  the  name 

Proved  all  lost  but  hope  and  fame, — 

Tout  *  est  perdu,  fors  1'honneur, 

Mas  "  UEspoir  est  ma  force"  sans  peur. 

*  Corruption,  in  the  course  of  generations,  has  converted  this  piece  of  chivalrous 
despondency  into  the  Author's  modernized  and  ineuphonious  name. 


818  HACTENUS. 


T-HE    TRUE    EPICURE. 

How  saidst  thou  ?  —  Pleasure :  why,  my  life  is  pleasure ; 

My  days  are  pleasantness,  my  nights  are  peace; 

I  drink  of  joys  which  neither  cloy  nor  cease, 
A  well  that  gushes  blessings  without  measure. 

Ah,  thou  hast  little  heed  how  rich  and  glad, 
How  happy  is  my  soul  in  her  full  treasure, 

How  seldom  but  for  honest  pity  sad, 

How  constantly  at  calm !  —  my  very  cares 

Are  sweetness  in  my  clip,  as  being  sent;' 
And  country  quiet  and  retired  leisure 

Keep  me  from  half  the  common  fears,  and  snares ; 

And  I  have  learnt  the  wisdom  of  content : 
Yea,  and,  to  crown  the  cup  of  peace  with  praise, 
Both  God  and  man  have  blest  my  works  and  ways. 


THRENOS.  , 

VANITY,  vanity!   dead  hopes  and  fears, 

Dim  flitting  phantoms  of  departed  years, 

Unsatisfying  shadows,  vague  and  cold,    . 

Of  thoughts  and  things  that  made  my  joys  of  old, 

Sad  memories  of  the  kindly  words  and  ways 

And  looks  and  loves  of  friends  in  other  days, —  • 

Alas !   all  gone  —  a  dream,  a  very  dream, 

A  dream  is  all  you  are,  and  all  you  seem! 

0  life,  I  do  forget  thee :  I  look  back, 

And  lo,  the  desert  wind  has  swept  my  track: 

1  stand  upon  this  bare  and  solid  ground, 
And,  strangely  wakened,  wonder  all  around ; 

How  came  I  here  ?  and  whence  ?  and  whither  tend ' 


THREXOS.  sit 

Speak,  friend !  —  if  death  and  time  have  spared  a  friend . 
Behold,  the  place  that  knew  me  well  of  yore 
Knoweth  me  not;   and  that  familiar  floor 
Where  all  my  kith  and  kin  were  wont  to  meet 
Is  now  grown  strange,  and  throng'd  by  other  feet: 

O  soul,  my  soul,  consider  then  that  spot, 

Root  there  thy  gratitude,  and  leave  it  not; 

Still  let  remembrance,  with  a  swimming  eye, 

Live  in  those  rooms,  nor  pass  them  coldly  by; 

Still  let  affection  cling  to  those  old  days,* 

And  yearning  fondly  paint  them  bright  with  praise : 

O  once  my  home  —  with  all  thy  blessings  fled, 

O  forms  and  faces  —  gathered  to  the  dead, 

O  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow  —  faded  fast ! 

—  How  hollow  sound  thy  footsteps,  ghostlike  PAST! 

An  aching  emptiness  is  all  thou  art, 

A  famine  hid  within  the  caverned  heart. 

Thou  changeless  OWE, — how  blest  to  have  no  change, — 

Only  with  Thee,  my  God,  I  feel  not  strange  ; 

Thou  art  the  same  for  ever  and  for  aye, 

To-morrow  and  to-day  as  yesterday, 

Thou  art  the  same,  —  a  tranquil  Present  still; 

There  I  can  hide,  and  bless  Thy  sovereign  will: 

Yes,  bless  Thee,  O  my  Father,  that  Thy  love 

Call'd  in  an  instant  to  the  bliss  above, 

From  ills  to  come  and  grief  and  care  and  fear, 

Thy  type  to  me,  most  honor'd  and  most  dear! 

O  true  and  tender  spirit,  pure  and  good, 

So  vex'd  on  earth  and  little  understood, 

Thy  gentle  nature  was  not  fit  for  strife, 

But  quail'd  to  meet  the  waking  woes  of  life ; 

And  therefore  God  our  Father  kindly  made 

Thy  sleep  a  death,  lest  thou  shouldst  feel  afraid! 


HACTENUS. 


THE    DEAD. 


I  LOVE  the  dead ! 
The  precious  spirit^  gone  before, 
And  waiting  on  that  peaceful  shore 
To  meet  .with  welcome  looks 

and  kiss  me  yet  once  more 

I  love  the  dead ! 
And  fondly  doth  my  fancy  paint 
Each  dear  one,  wash'd  from  earthly  taint, 
By  patience  and  by  hope 

made  a  most  gentle  saint. 

O  glorious  dead ! 
Without  one  spot  upon  the  dresa 
Of  your  ethereal  loveliness, 
Ye  linger  round  me  still 

with  earnest  will  to  bless. 

Enfranchised  dead! 
Each  fault  and  failing  left  behind 
And  nothing  now  to  chill  or  bind, 
How  gloriously  ye  reign 

in  majesty  of  mind ! 

0  royal  dead! 

The  resting,  free,  unfettered  dead, 
The  yearning,  conscious,  holy  dead. 
The  hoping,  waiting,  calm, 

the  happy,  changeless  dead ! 

1  love  the  dead! 

And  well  forget  their  little  ill, 
Eager  to  bask  my  memory  still 


THE    DEAD. 

In  all  their  best  of  words 

and  deeds  and  ways  and  will. 

I  bless  the  dead ! 

Their  good,  half  choked  by  this  world's  weeds, 
Is  blooming  now  in  heavenly  meads, 
And  ripening  golden  fruit, 

of  all  those  early  seeds. 

I  trust  the  dead! 
They  understand  me  frankly  now, 
There  are  no  clouds  on  heart  or  brow, 
But  spirit,  reading  spirit, 

answereth  glow  for  glow. 

I  praise  the  dead! 
All  their  tears  are  wiped  away, 
Their  darkness  turned  to  perfect  day,— 
How  blessed  are  the  dead, 

how  beautiful  be  they! 

O  gracious  dead ! 

That  watch  me  from  your  paradise 
With  happy  tender  starlike  eyes, 
Let  your  sweet  influence  rain 

me  blessings  from  the  skies. 

Yet,  helpless  dead, 
Vainly  my  yearning  nature  dares 
Such  unpremeditated  prayers  ;  — 
All  vain  it  were  for  them, 

as  even  for  me  their'a. 

Immortal  dead ! 

Ye  in  your  lot  are  fixed  as  fate, 
And  man  or  angel  is  too  late 
To  beckon  back  by  prayer 

one  change  upon  your  state. 
14* 


HACTENU& 

O,  godlike  dead, 

Ye  that'  do  rest,  like  Noah's  dove, 
Fearless  I  leave  you  to  the  love 
Of  him  who  gave  you  peace 

to  bear  with  you  above . 

And  ye,  the  dead 
Godless  on  earth,  and  gone  astray 
Alas,  your  hour  is  past  away,— 
The  Judge  is  just;  for  you 

it  now  were  sin  to  pray. 

Still,  all  ye  dead, 

First  may  be  last  and  last  be  first,— 
Charity  counteth  no  man  curst, 
But  hopeth  still  in  Him 

whose  love  would  save  the  worst. 

Therefore,  ye  dead, 
I  love  you,  be  ye  good  or  ill, 
For  God,  our  God,  doth  love  me  still, 
And  you  He  loved  on  earth 

with  love  that  naught  could  chiii. 

And  some,  just  dead, 
To  me  on  earth  most  deeply  dear, 
Who  loved  and  nursed  and  blest  me  here, 
I  love  you  with  a  love 

that  casteth  out  all  fear. 

Come  near  me,  Dead! 
In  spirit  come  to  me,  and  kiss, — 
No!  —  I  must  wait  awhile  for  this 
A  few,  few  years  or  days 

and  I  too  feed  on  bliss! 


TO    AMERICA  323 


TO    AMERICA: 


COLUMBIA,  child  of  Britain,  —  noblest  child, 

I  praise  the  growing  lustre  of  thy  worth, 
And  fain  would  see  thy  great  heart  reconcil'd 

To  love  the  mother  of  so  blest  a  births 
For  we  are  one,  Columbia !  still  the  same 
In  lineage,  language,  laws,  and  ancient  fame, 

The  natural  nobility  of  earth: 
Yes,  we  are  one ;  the  glorious  days  of  yore, 
When  dear  old  England  earn'd  her  storied  name 
Are  thine  as  well  as  ours  for  evermore ; 

•  And  thou  hast  rights  ia  Milton,  ev'n  as  we, 
Thou  too  canst  claim  "  sweet  Shakspeare's  wood-notes  wild," 

And  chiefest,  brother,  we  are  both  made  free 
Of  one  Religion,  pure  and  undefil'd ! 


I  blame  thee  not,  as  other  some  have  blam'd, — 

The  high-born  heir  had  grown  to  man's  estate, 
I  mock  thee  not  as  some  who  should  be  shamed, 

Nor  ferret  .out  thy  faults  with  envious  hate ; 
Far  otherwise,  —  by  generous  love  inflamed, 

Patriot,  I  praise  my  country's  foreign  son, 
Rejoicing  in  the  blaze  of  good  and  great 

That  diadems  thy  head!  —  go  on,  go  on. 
Young  Hercules,  thus  travelling  in  mignt, 
Boy-Plato,  filling  all  the  west  with  light 

Thou  new  Themistocles  for  enterprise, 
Go  on  and  prosper,  Acolyte  of  fate  J 

And,  precious  child,  dear  Ephraim,  turn  those  eyes,- 
For  thee  thy  Mother's  yearning  heart  doth  wait. 


324  HACTENUS. 


Let  aged  Britain  claim  the  classic  Paft, 

A  shining  track  of  bright  and  mighty  deeds, 
For  thee  I  prophesy  the  Future  vast 

Whereof  the  Present  sows  its  giant  seeds : 
Corruption  and  decay  come  thick  and  fast 

O'er  poor  old  England ;  yet  a  few  dark  years 
And  we  must  die  as  nations  died  of  yore ! 
But,  in  the  millions  of  thy  teeming  shore, 

Thy  patriots,  sages,  warriors,  saints,  and  seera, 
We  live  again,  Columbia!  yea,  once  more 

Unto  a  thousand  generations  live, 
The  mother  in  the  child ;  to  all  the  West 

Through  Thee  shall  We  earth's  choicest  blessings  give, 
Ev'n  as  our  Orient  world  in  Us  is  blest 


IT. 


Thou  noble  scion  of  an  ancient  root, 

Born  of  the  forest-king !   spread  forth,  spread  forth,  • 
High  to  the  stars  thy  tender  leaflets  shoot, 

Deep  dig  thy  fibres  round  the  ribs  of  earth ! 

From  sea  to  sea,  from  South  to  icy  ISorth, 

It  must  ere  long  be  thine,  through  good  or  ill, 
To  stretch  thy  sinewy  boughs :  Go,  wondrous  child  I 
The  glories  of  thy  destiny  fulfil ;  — 

Remember  then  thy  mother  in  her  age, 
Shelter  her  in  the  tempest,  warring  wild, 

Stand  thou  with  us  when  all  the  nations  rage 
So  furiously  together !  —  we  are  one : 

And,  through  all  time,  the  calm  historic  page 
Shall  tell  of  Britain  blest  in  thee  her  son. 


WELLINGTON    AND    HIS   ARMY.  326 

THE    THANKS    OF    PARLIAMENT    TO 
WELLING  ION    AND    HIS    ARMY. 

OOT  spake  a  nation's  vcice, 

Concentred  in  her  king, 
While  cannons  roar,  and  hearts  rejoice, 
•        And  all  the  steeples  ring: 

Out  spake  old  England  then 

By  prelates  and  by  peers; 
By  all  her  best  and  wisest  men, 

Her  sages  and  her  seers  — 

Old  England  and  her  pair 

Of  sisters,  north  and  west, 
The  comely  graces,  fresh  and  fair, 

Who  charm  the  world  to  rest 

All  honor  to  the  brave !  — 

The  living  and  the  dead,  — 
Who  only  fought  to  bless  and  save, 

And  crush  the  hydra's  head: 

All  honor  and  all  thanks 
To  every  mother's  son, 
Saxon,  or  Celt,  or  Gael,  or  Manx, 
,Who  fought  with  Wellington! 

For  heroes  were  they  all, 

To  conquer  or  to  die, 
By  Ahmednuggra's  bastion'd  w»t 

Or  desperate  Assye: 

And  heroes  still,  they  strive 

Against  the  dangerous  Dane, 
When  France  stirred  up  the  northern  hive, 
To  sting  us  on  the  main: 


HACTENTJS. 

All  heroes,  heroes  still, 

^For  Lusitania's  right; 
Be  red  Roleia's  hard-fought  hill, 

And  Vimiera's  fight : 

And  stout  the  heroes  stood 

On  Talavera'a  day  ; 
And  wrote  their  conquering  names  in  blood 

At  Salamanca's  fray ; 

Still  heroes,  on  they  went 

O'er  Ciudad's  gory  fosse, 
And  stern  Sebastian's  battlement, 

And  thundering  Badajoz 

And,  heroes^  ever,  taught 

Old  Soult  to  fly  and  yield, 
Shouting  "  Victory  "  as  they  fought 

On  red  Vittoria's  field ; 

And,  heroes  aye,  they  flew 

To  Orthez,  conquering  yet; 
Until,  at  whelming  Waterloo, 

The  Frenchman's  sun  had  set! 

Then,  thanks!  thou  glorious  chief, 

And  thanks !  ye  gallant  band, 
Who,  under  God,  to  man's  relief 

Stretched  out  the  saving  band: 

All  Britain  thanks  you  well, 

By  peasant,  peer,  and  king; 
To  all  who  fought  for  us,  or  fell, 

Immortal  honors  bring ! 

Peal  fast  the  merry  chime, 

And  bid  the  cannon  roar 
In  praise  of  heroes,  whom  all  time 

Shall  cherish  evermore ! 


PAIN  —  ADRIAN'S    APOSTROPHE.  827 


1'AiN. 

DELAY  not,  sinner,  till  the  hour  of  pam 

To  seek  repentance ;  pain  is  absolute, 
Exacting  all  the  body  and  the  brain, 

Humanity's  stern  king  from  head  to  foot: 

*How  canst  thou  pray,  while  fevered  arrows  shoot 
Througn  this  torn  targe,  —  while  every  bone  doth  adie, 

And  the  scared  mind  raves  up  and  down  her  cell 
Restless,  and  begging  rest  for  mercy's  sake  ? 

Add  not  to  death  the  bitter  fears  of  hell ; 

Take  pity  on  thy  future  self,  poor  man, 

While  yet  in  strength  thy  timely  wisdom  can, — 
Wrestle  to-day  with  sin ;  and  spare  that  strife 

Of  meeting  terrors  in  the  van, 
Just  at  the  ebbing  agony  of  life.        • 


THREE  VERSIONS  OF  ADRIAN'S  APOSTROPHE. 

ANIMULA,  vagula,  blandule, 
Hospes,  comesque,  corporis, 
•  Quse  nunc  abibis  in  loca? 

Pallidula,  rigidi,  nudula, 
Nee,  ut  soles,  dabis  jocos  ? 


Pleasant  little  fluttering  sprite, 
Long  my  bosom's  merry  guest, 

Whither  now  to  wing  thy  flight? 

Ah!   thou  frozen  little  wight, 
Pale,  and  naked,  and  unblest, 
Never  more  a  jibe  or  jest? 


328  HACTENUS. 

IV 

Soft  little  butterfly-guest  of  my  heart, 

Whither  now  flittest  thou,  spirit  of  mine? 

Woe,  —  for  thy  merriment  must  it  depart 
Naked  and  frigid  and  pallid  to  pine? 


Soul,  thou  tiny  truant  dear, 
Bosom  friend  for  many  a  year, 
Restless  little  darling,  say, 
Whither  stealest  thou  away? 

Pallid  as  a  fainting  maid, 
Naked,  icy-cold,  afraid, 
Is  then  all  thy  wit  in  vain, — 
Shalt  thou  never  laugh  again  ? 


NO    SURRENDER. 

FOR    MUSIC. 

EVER  constant,  ever  true, 
Let  the  word  be,  No  surrender; 

Boldly  dare  and  greatly  do ! 

This  shall  bring  us  bravely  through, 
No  surrender,  No  surrender; 

And  though  Fortune's  smiles  be.  few 

Hope  is  always  springing  new, 

Still  inspiring  me  and  you 

With  a  magic  —  No  surrender ! 

Nail  the  colors  to  the  mast, 

Shouting  glad,  No  surrender! 
Troubles  near  are  all  but  past  — 


NEVER    MEND.  329 

Scn*e  them  as  you  did  the  last, 

No  surrender,  No  surrender ! 
Though  the  skies  be  overcast 
And  upon  the  sleety  blast 
Disappointments  gather  fast, 

Beat  them  off  with  No  Surrender! 

Constant  and  courageous  still, 

Mind,  the  word  is  No  surrender ; 
Battle,  tho'  it  be  uphill, 
Stagger  not  at  seeming  ill, 

No  surrender,  No  surrender ! 
Hope,  —  and  thus  your  hope  fulfil,  — 
There's  a  way  where  there's  a  will, 
And  the  way  all  cares  to  kill 

Is  to  give  them  —  No  surrender . 


NEVER    MIND. 

FOR    MUSIC. 

SOUL,  be  strong,  whate'er  betide, 
God  himself  is  guard  and  guide, — 
With  my  Father  at  my  side, 
Never  mind ! 

Clouds  and  darkness  hover  near, 
Men's  hearts  failing  them  for  fear, 
But  be  thou  of  right  good  cheer^ 
Never  mind ! 

Come  what  may,  some  work  is  done, 
Praise  the  Father  through  the  Son, 
Goals  are  gain'd  and  prizes  won, 
Never  mind ! 


850  HACTENUS. 

And  if  now  the  skies  look  black 
All  the  past  behind  my  back, 
Is  a  bright  and  blessed  track; 
Never  mind ! 

Stand  in  patient  courage  still, 
Working  out  thy  Master's  will, 
Compass  good,  and  conquer  ill; 
Never  mind ! 

Fight,  for  all  their  bullying  boast, 
Dark  temptation's  evil  host, 
This  is  thy  predestined  post ; 
Never  mind ! 

Be  then  tranquil  as  a  dove ; 
Throug'    these  thunder-clouds  above 
Shines  afar  the  heaven  of  love; 
Never  mind ! 


THE  CROMLECH  DU  TUS,  GUERNSEY.* 

HOARY  relic,  stern  and  old, 
Heaving  huge  above  the  mould 
Like  some  mammoth,  lull'd  to  sleep 
By  the  magic-murmuring  deep, 
Till  those  grey  gigantic  bones 
Gorgon-time  hath  frovvn'd  to  stones,  — 
W,ho  shall  tell  thine  awful  tale, 
Massy  Cromlech  at  "  The  Vale  ?  " 
Ruthless  altar,  hungry  tomb' 
Superstition's  throne  of  gk/fin, 
Where,  in  black  sepulchral  state. 


*  See  an  interesting  paper  by  Mr.  F.  C.  Lukis,  in  ;he  A/t;,«p--o{fical  Journal  for 
April,  1845. 


THE    CROMLECH    DU    TTJS.  331 

High  the  hooded  Spectre  sate, 

Terrible  and  throng'd  by  fears 

Brooding  for  a  thousand  years 

As  a  thunder-cloud  above 

All  that  wretched  men  may  love,— 

Is  there  no  grim  witness  near 

That  shall  whisper  words  of  fear, 

Every  brother's  heart  to  thrill, 

Every  brother's  blood  to  chill, 

While  thy  records  are  revealed, 

And  thy  mysteries  unsealed  ? 

Lift,  with  Titan  toil  and  pain, 

Lift  the  lid  by  might  and  main, — 

Lift  the  lid  and  look  within 

On  —  this  charnel  house  of  Sin! 

O,  twin  brethren,  how  and  when 

Dwelt  ye  in  this  rocky  den ! 

Rise,  dread  martyrs !   for  your  bones 

Chronicle  these  cromlech-stones! 

Rise,  ye  grisly,  ghastly  pair, 

—  Skeletons  !  how  came  ye  there  — 

Kneeling  starkly  side  by  side 

More  like  life  than  those  who  died? 

More  like  life  ?  —  O  what  a  spell 

Of  horror  cowers  in  that  cell ! 

More  like  life  ?  —  Alive  they  went 

Into  that  stone  tenement, 

Bound  as  in  religious  ease 

Meekly  kneeling  on  their  knees, 

And  the  cruel  thongs  confin'd 

All  but  the  distracted  mind, 

That  w^th  terror  raved  to  see. 

Woe !   how  slow  such  death  would  be : 

Woe !  how  slow  and  full  of  dread : 

Pining,  dying,  but  not  dead  — 

Pining,  dying  in  the  tomb, 

Drown'd  in  gulfs  of  starving  gloom, 

With  corruption,  hideous  fear, 

Creeping  noiselessly  more  near, 


332  HACTENUS. 

While  the  victims  slowly  died, 
Link'd  together  side  by  side, 
Till  in  manacled  mad  strife 


Yea :  some  idol  claim'd  the  price 
Of  this  living  sacrifice ; 
Some  grim  demon's  dark  high  priest 
Bound  these  slaves  for  Odin's  feast, 
Offering  up  with  rites  of  hell 
Human  pangs  to  Thor  or  Bel !  — 

Christians,  ponder  on  these  bones; 
Kneel  around  the  Cromlech-stones ; 
Kneel  and  thank  our  GOD  above 
That  His  name,  His  heart  is  Love, 
That  His  thirst  is,  —  not  for  blood, 
But  —  for  joy  and  gratitude  ; 
That  He  bids*  no  soul  be  sad, 
But  is  glad  to  make  «s  glad ; 
That  He  loves  not  man's  despair, 
But  delights  to  bless  his  prayer! 


A    FAMILY    PICTURE. 

Mr  little  ones,  my  darling  ones,  my  precious  things  of  earth. 
How  gladly  do  I  triumph  in  the  blessing  of  your  birth ; 
How  heartily  for  praises,  and  how  earnestly  for  prayers, 
I  yearn  upon  your  loveliness,  my  dear  delightful  cares ! 

0  children,  happy  word  of  peace,  my  jewels  and  my  gold, 

My  truest  friends  till  now,  and  still  my  truest  friends  when  old, 

1  will  be  every  thing  to  you,  your  playmate  and  your  guide, 
Both  Mentor  and  Telemachus  for  ever  at  your  side! 


A    FAMILY    PICTURE.  333 

I  will  be  W"T  thing  to  you,  your  sympathizing  friend, 

To  teach,  anr  "i(-'n.  and  lead,  and  blesa,  an*1  Comfort,  and  defend; 

0  come  Vo  me   ».nd    ei)  me  all,  and  ye  shad  find  me  true, 
A  brother  in  adversity  to  fight  it  out  for  you* 

Yea,  sins  or  follies,  griefs  or  cares,  or  young  affection's  thrall, 
Fear  not,  for  I  am  one  with  you,  and  I  have  felt  them  all ; 

1  will  be  tender,  just,  and  kind,  unwilling  to  reprove, 
1  will  do  all  to  bless  you  all  by  wisdom  and  by  love. 

O  blessed  boon  and  gain  to  me,  O  mercy   praise,  and  pride! 
Ye  lack  none  other  heritage  your  father's  name  beside : 
Wnen  I  am  dead,  your  little  ones  shall  iwtd  my  words  with  glee, 
When  they  are  dead,  their  little  ones  wU    still  remember  me. 

My  tender  babes,  delighted  I  review  jr»i  as  ye  stand, 
A  pretty  troop  of  fairies  and  young  chen-bs  hand  in  hand, 
And  tell  out  all  your  names  to  be  a  dou.  familiar  sound 
Wherever  English  hearths  and  hearts  about  the  world  abound. 

My  eldest,  of  the  sparkling  eyes,  my  Ellin,  nine  years  old, 
Thou  thoughtful  good  example  of  the  loving  little  fold, 
My  Ellin,  they  shall  hear  of  thee,  fair  spirit,  holy  child, 
The  truthful  and  the  well-resolved,  the  liberal  and  the  mild. 

And  thee,  my  Mary,  what  of  thee  ?  —  the  beauty  of  thy  face  ? 
The  coyly-pretty  whims  and  ways  that  ray  thee  round  with  grace  ? 
—  O  more  than  these ;   a  dear  warm   heart   that   still   must   thrill 

and  glow 
With  pure  affection's  sunshine,  and  with  feeling's  overflow! 

• 

Thou  too,  my  gentle  fiveryear-old,  fair  Margaret  the  pearl, 
A  quiet,  sick,  and  suffering  child,  sweet  patient  little  girl,— 
Yet  gay  withal  and  frolicsome  at  times  wilt  thou  appear, 
And  like  a  bell  thy  merry  voice  rings  musical  and  clear. 

And  next  my  Selwyn,  precious  boy,  a  glorious  young  mind, 
The  sensitive,  the  passionate,  the  noble,  and  the  kind, 


334  HACTENUS. 

Whose  light-brown  locks   bedropt  with  gold,  and  large  eyes  full 

of  love, 
And  generous  nature  mingle  well  the  lion  and  the  dove. 

The  last,  an  infant  toothless  one,  now  prattling  on  my  knee, 
Whose  bland,  benevolent,  soft  face  is  shining  upon  me ; 
Another  silver  star  upon  our  calm  domestic  sky, 
Another  seed  of  happy  hope,  dropt  kindly  from  on  high. 

This  sealeth  up  the  sum  to  us,  my  loved  and  loving  wife} 
Be  these  to  us  the  pleasure  and  the  business  of  life : 
And  thou  to  me,  what  art  thou  not?   through  infancy  and  youth, 
And  manhood's  prime,  as  now,  my  all  of  constancy  and  truth ! 

A  happy  man,  —  be  this  my  praise,  —  not  riches,  rank,  or  fame, 
A  happy  man,  with  means  enough,  —  no  other  lot  or  name : 
A  happy  man,  with  you  for  friends,  my  children  and  my  wife, — 
—  Ambition  is  o'ervaulted  here  in  all  that  gladdens  life ! 

Yes !  leave  me  to  my  happy  thoughts,  and  these  about  me  still, 
In  ancient  woods  of  Albury,  or  on  my  fresh  Furze  Hill ; 
And,  children,  teach  your  children,  too,  by  righteousness  to  stand, 
•For  so  they  shall  inherit  peace  and  blessings  in  the  land. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

HENRY   DE   B.   T. 

• 

HAIL  then  a  sixth !   my  doubly  triple  joy/» 
Another  blessing  in  a  third-born  boy, 
Another  soul  by  generous  Favor  sent 
To  teach  and  train  for  heaven  through  content, 
Another  second-self  with  hopes  like  mine 
In  better  worlds  beyond  the  stars  to  shine, 
Another  little  hostage  from  above 


ERRATA  —  IMPROMPTU.  335 

The  pledge  and  promise  of  our  Father's  love ! 
God  guard  the  babe ;  and  cherish  the  young  child : 
And  bless  the  boy  with  nurture  wise  and  mild; 
And  lead  the  lad,  and  yearn  upon  the  youth ; 
And  make  the  man  a  man  of  trust  and  truth ; 
Through  life  and  death  uphold  him  all  his  days, 
And  then  translate  him  to  Thyself  with  praise ! 


ERRATA. 

AN  AUTHOR'S  COMPLAINT. 

O  FRIENDS  and  brothers,  judge  me  not  unheard  ~t         f 

Make  not  a  man  offender  for  a  word: 

For  often  have  I  noted  seeming  fault 

That  harm'd  my  rhymes,  and  made  my  reasons  halt, 

Whilst  all  that  error  was  some  printer's  sloth, 

Who,  scorning  rhyme  and  reason,  slew  them  both: 

Be  ye  then  liberal  to  your  far-off  friend, 

Where  garbled,  guess  him;   and  where  maim'd,  amend 

Trust  him  for  wit,  when  types  have  marr'd  the  word, 

And  wisdom,  too,  where  only  blockheads  err'd. 


IMPROMPTU. 

TO    ONE    WHO    SAID    THAT    SHE    DISLIKED    POETRT. 

LADY,  thou  lovest  high  and  holy  Thought, 

And  noble  deeds,  and  hopes  sublime  or  beauteous, 

Thou  lovest  charities  in  secret  wrought, 

And  all  things  pure  and  generous  and  duteous ; 


336  HACTENTJS. 

What  then  if  these  be  drest  in  robes  of  power, 
Triumphant  WORDS,  that  thrill  the  heart  of  man, 

Conquering  for  good  beyond  the  flitting  hour, 
With  stately  march,  and  music  in  the  van? 


VENUS: 

REPLY  TO  LONGFELLOW'S  POEM   ON   MARS,    IN  "VOICES  OP  THE 
NIGHT." 

THOU  lover  of  the  blaze  of  Mars,         ^ 

•  Come  out  with  me  to-night, 

For  I  have  found  among  the  stars 
A  name  of  nobler  light : 

Thy  boast  is  of  the  unconquered  Mind, 

The  strong,  the  stern,  the  still ; 
Mine  of  the  happier  Heart,  resign'd 

To  Wisdom's  holy  will. 

They  call  my  star  by  Beauty's  name, 

The  gentle  Queen  of  Love ; 
And  look !   how  fair  its  tender  flame 

Is  flickering  above : 

O  star  of  peace,  O  torch  of  hope, 

I  hail  thy  precious  ray, 
A  diamond  on  the  ebon  cope 

To  shine  the  dark  away. 

Within  my  heart  there  is  no  light 

But  cometh  from  above, 
.1  give  the  first  watch  of  the  night 
To  the  sweet  planet,  Love : 


"THE   WARM    YOTJNG    HEART."  337 

The  star  of  Charity  and  Truth, 

Of  cheerful  thoughts  and  sage, 
The  lamp  to  guide  my  steps  in  youth, 

And  gladden  mine  old  age ! 

O  brother,  yield:  thy  fiery  Mars, 

For  all  his  mailed  might, 
Is  not  so  strong  among  the  stare 

As  mine,  the  Queen  of  night: 

A  Queen  to  shine  all  flights  away, 

And  make  the  morn  more  clear, 
Contentment  gilding  every  day, — 

—  There  is  no  twilight  here! 

Yes ;  in  a  trial  world  like  this 

Where  all  that  comes  —  is  sent, 
Learn  how  divine  a  thing  it  is 

To  smile  and  be  content ! 


"THE    WARM    YOUNG    HEART." 

FOR   MUSIC. 

A  BEAUTIFUL  face,  and  a  form  of  grace 

Were  a  pleasant  sight  to  see, 
And  gold,  and  gems,  and  diadems, 

Right  excellent  they  be: 
But  beauty  and  gold,  tho'  both  be  untold, 

Are  things  of  a  worldly  mart, 
The  wealth  that  I  prize,  above  ingots  or  eyes, 

Is  a  heart,  —  a  warm  young  heart ! 

O  face  most  fair,  shall  thy  beauty  compare 
With  affection's  glowing  light  ? 
15 


838  1IACTENUS. 

0  riches  and  pride,  how  pale  ye  beside 
Love's  wealth,  serene  and  bright ! 

1  spurn  thee  away,  as  a  cold  thing  of  clay, 
Tho'  gilded  and  carved  thou  art, 

For  all  that  I  prize,  in  its  smiles  and  its  sighs, 
Is  a  heart,  —  a  warm  young  heart ! 


A    CONSECRATION. 
October  29,  1847. 

LIKE  some  fair  Nun,  the  pious  and  the  chaste, 

Shalford,  thy  new-born  temple  stands  serene, 
Modestly  deck'd  in  pure  old  English  taste, 

The  village  beauty  of  thy  tranquil  scene  ; 
And  we  to-day  have  made  religious  haste 

To  see  thee  wedded  to  thy  heavenly  Spouse. 

Kneelhig  in  unison  of  praise  and  prayer 
To  help  the  offering  of  thy  maiden  vows : 

Hark!   what  a  thrilling  utterance  is  there, 
"Lift  up  your  heads,  ye  everlasting  gates,"  — 

As  GOD'S  high-priest  with  apostolic  care 
To  HIM  this  tent  of  glory  consecrates : 

Good  work !   to  be  remembered  for  all  time, 

The  se,ed  of  mercies  endless  and  sublime ! 

i  . 
'  Come  in,  thou  King  of  Glory,"  yea,  come  in, 

Rest  here  awhile,  great  Conqueror  for  good ! 
Bless  thou  this  font  to  cleanse  from  Adam's  sin, 

Spread  thou  this  table  with  celestial  food ! 

And,  kindled  by  Thy  grace  to  gratitude, 
May  thousands  here  eternal  treasures  win, 

As,  hither  led,  from  time  to  time  with  joy 
They  seek  their  Father:  lo!  before  mine  eyes 
Visions  and  promises  of  good  arise,  — 


HYMN    AND    CHANT.  339 

.The  tender  babe  baptized,  the  stripling  boy 
Confirm'd  for  godliness,  the  maid  and  youth 

Wedded  in  love,  the  man  mature  made  wise, 
The  elder  taught  in  righteousness  and  truth, 

And  each  an  heir  of  life  before  he  dies! 


THE  THANKSGIVING  HYMN  AND  CHANT. 

FOR     THE     HARVEST    HOME     OF     1847. 

•  \ 

O  NATION,  Christian  nation, 

Lift  high  the  hymn  of  praise, 
The  God  of  our  Salvation 

Is  love  in  all  his  ways ; 
He  blesses  us,  and  feedeth 

Every  creature  of  his  hand, 
To  succor  him  that  needeth, 

And  to  gladden  all  the  land! 

Rejoice,  ye  happy  people, 

And  peal  the  changing  chime 
From  every  belfried*  steeple 

In  symphony  sublime: 
Let  cottage  and  let  palace 

Be  thankful,  and  rejoice, 
•         And  woods,  and  hills,  and  valleys 

Re-echo  the  glad  voice ! 

From  glen,  and  j^ain,  and  city, 

Let  gracious  incense  rise, 
The  Lord  of  life  in  pity 

Hath  heard  his  creatures'  cries' 
And  where  in  fierce  oppressing 

Stalk'd  fever,  fear,  and  dearth, 
He  pours  a  triple  blessing 

To  fill  and  fatten  earth! 


340  HACTENUS. 

Gaze  round  in  deep  emotion: 

The  rich  and  ripen'd  grain 
Is  like  a  golden  ocean 

Becalmed  upon  the  plain ; 
And  we  who  late  were  weepers, 

Lest  judgment  should  destroy, 
Now  sing,  because  the  reapers 

Are  come  again  with  joy ! 

O  praise  the  hand  that  giveth 

—  And  giveth  evermore  — 
To  every  soul  that  liveth 

Abundance  flowing  o'er ! 
For  every  soul  He  filleth 

With  manna  from  above, 
And  over  all  distilleth 

The  unction  of  His  love. 

Then  gather,  Christians,  gather, 

To^  praise  with  heart  and  voice 
The  good  Almighty  Father, 

Who  biddeth  you  rejoice: 
For  he  hath  turned  the  sadness 

Of  his  children  into  mirth, 
And  we  will  sing  with  gladness 

The  harvest-home  of  earth ! 


O  BLESS  tne  God  of  harvest,  praise  him  through  the  land, 
Thank  him  for  his  precious  gifts,  his  help,  and  liberal  love: 
Praise  him  for  the  fields  thatghave  rendered  up  their  riches, 
And,  dressed  in  sunny  stubbles,  take  their  Sabbath  after  toil ; 
Praise  him  for  the  close-shorn  plains,  and  uplands  lying  bare, 
And  meadows,  where  the  sweet-breathed  hay  was  stacked  in  early 

summer ; 

Praise  him  for  the  wheat-sheaves,  gathered  safely  into  barn, 
And  scattering  now  their  golden  drops  beneath  the  sounding  flail; 
Praise  him  for  the  barley  mow,  a  little  hill  of  sweetness ; 


HYMN    AND    CHANT.  341 

Praise  him  for  the  clustering  hop,  to  add  its  fragrant  bitter1, 
Praise  him  for  the  wholesome  root,  that  fattened  in  the  furrow; 
Praise  him  for  the  mellow  fruits  that  bend  the  groaning  bough; 
For  blessings  on  thy  basket,  and  for  blessings  on  thy  store, 
For  skill  and  labor  prospered  well,  by  gracious  suns  and  showers, 
For  mercies  on  the  home,  and  for  comforts  on  the  hearth, 
^.O  happy  heart  of  this  broad  land,  praise  the  God  of  harvest! 

All  ye  that  have  no  tongue  to  praise,  we  will  praise  Him  for  you, 
And  offer  on  our  kindling  souls  the  tribute  of  your  thanks ; 
Trees  and  shrubs  and  the  multitude  of  herbs,  gladdening  the  eyes 

with  verdure, 
For  all  your  leaves  and  flowers   and  fruits,  we  praise  the  God  of 

harvest ! 

Birds,  and  beetles  in  the  dust,  and  insects  flitting  on  the  air, 
And  ye  that  swim  the  waters  in  your  scaly  coats  of  mail, 
And  steers,  resting  after  labor,  and  timorous  flocks  afold, 
And  generous  horses,  yoked  in  teams  to  draw  the  creaking  wains, 
For  all  your  lives,  and  every  pleasure  solacing  that  lot, 
Your  sleep,  and  .food,  and  animal    peace,  we   praise   the  God  of 

harvest ! 

And  ye,  O  some  who  never  prayed,  and  therefore  cannot  praise; 
Poor  darkling  sons  of  care  and  toil  and  unillumined  night, 
Who  rose  betimes,  but  did  not  ask  a  blessing  on  your  work, 
Who  lay  down  late,  but  rendered  no  thank-offering  for  that  blessing 
Which  all  unsought  He  sent,  and  all  unknown  ye  gathered, — 
Alas,  for  you,  and  in  your  stead,  we  praise  the  God  of  harvest! 
O  ye  famine-stricken  glens,  whose  children  shrieked  for  bread, 
And  noisome  alleys  of  the  town  where  fever  fed  on  hunger,  — 
O  ye  children  of  despair,  bitterly  bewailing  Erin, 
Come  and  join  my  cheerful  praise,  for  God  hath  answered  prayer. 
Praise  him  for  the  better  hopes,  and  signs  of  better  times, 
Unity,  gratitude,  contentment;   industry,  peace,  and  plenty; 
Bless  Him  that  his  chastening  rod  is  now  the  sceptre  of  forgiveness, 
And  in  your  joy  remember  well  to  praise  the  God  of  harvest ! 

Come,  come  along  with  me,  and  swell  this  grateful  song, 

Ye  nobler  hearts,  old  England's  own,  the  children  of  the  soil : 

All  ye  that  sowed  the  seed  in  faith,  with  those  who  reaped  in  joy, 


342  HACTENUS. 

And  he  that  drove  the  plough  afield,  with  all  the  scattered  gleaners, 
And  maids  who  milk  the  lowing  kine,  and  boys  that  tend  the  sheep, 
And  men  that  load  the  sluggish  wain,  or  neatly  thatch  the  rick,  — 
Shout  and  sing  for  happiness  of  heart,  nor  stint  your  thrilling  cheers, 
But  make  the  merry  farmer's  hall  resound  with  glad  rejoicings, 
And  let  him  spread  the  hearty  feast  for  joy  at  harvest-home, 
And  join  this  cheerful  song  of  praise,  — to  bless  the  God  of  harvest ! 


M.    T. 

FORGOTTEN  ?  —  not  forgotten,  kind,  good  man, 

Tho'  seldom  fully  prized  at  thy  great  worth,  — 
I  will  embalm  thy  memory  as  I  can,          •'  .' 

And  send  this  blessing  to  the  ends  of  earth ! 
For  thou  wert  all  things  kindly  unto  all, 

Benevolent  and  liberal  from  birth, 
Ever  responsive  to  affection's  call, 

And  full  of  care  for  others,  —  full  of  care  — 
Weary  with  others'  burdens,  generous  heart, 

And  yet  thine  own  too  little  strong  to  bear: 
Father !  I  owe  thee  all,  and  cannot  pay 

The  happy  debt,  until  I  too  depart ; 
Then,  will  I  bless  and  love  it  all  away 

In  that  bright  world,  my  Father,  where  thou  art ' 


TWO    PSALMS. 

I.    THE    19TH. 

HEAV'N  declares  its  Makers  glory, 
And  the  firmament  His  might ; 

Day  to  day  the  wondrous  story 
Echoes  on,  and  night  to  night : 


TWO    PSALMS.  311 

All  ia  silence,  yet  Creation 

Knows  and  hears  that  voiceless  speech 
Which  to  every  tribe  and  nation 

Doth  their  Maker's  glory  teach. 

From  his  chamber  bright  in  heaven 

Lo,  the  bridegroom  of  the  earth 
Gladness  by  his  smile  hath  given, 

And  awakes  the  morn  to  mirth: 
Not  less  full  of  life  and  pleasure 

Is  God's  truth,  nor  less  complete ; 
Tis  more  precious  than  all  treasure, 

Than  the  honeycomb  more  sweet 

It  rejoices,  heals,  and  teaches, 

Ever  holy,  just,  and  good ; 
To  the  inmost  feeling  reaches, 

And  leads  up  the  heart  to  God. 
Warned  by  that,  thy  servant  turneth 

To  the  path  that  tends  to  bliss ; 
Yet,  who  all  his  faults  discerneth  ? 

Cleanse  me,  if  I  err  in  this. 

Let  not  pride  be  ruler  in  me, 

But  deliver,  guide,  forgive, 
Thus,  corruption  quenched  within  me, 

I  shall  be  upright  and  live. 
Let  my  words  and  meditation, 

Ever  pleasing  in  thy  sight, 
Meet  with  gracious  acceptation, 

My  Redeemer  and  my  Might! 

II.    THE    20TH. 

GOD  in  time  of  trouble  hear  thee, 

And  the  name  of  Jacob's  Lord 
From  his  sanctuary  near  thee, 

Out  of  Zion  help  afford ; 
Crown  thy  sacrifice  with  fire, 


HACTENUS. 

All  thy  gifts  remembered  still, 
Grant  thee  all  thy  heart's  desire, 
And  thy  choicest  wish  fulfil ! 

We  will  joy  in  Thy  salvation, 

And  will  set  our  banners  high 
In  our  God  !  —  Thy  supplication 

Be  accomplished  at  thy  cry. 
Now  I  know  the  Lord  from  heaven 

Saveth  still  his  Christ  from  harm  ; 
Now  to  Him  will  strength  be  given 

By  the  might  of  his  right  arm. 

Some  in  chariots,  some  on  horses,  — 

We  in  God  Jehovah  trust : 
And  while  He  our  sure  Resource  is, 

They  are  fallen  in  the  dust: 
Save,  Jehovah,  save  and  hear  us, 

King  of  glory,  King  of  might ! 
When  we  call  be  ever  near  us,  — 

Ever  for  thy  servants  fight! 


CONFESSION. 

ALAS,  how  mauy  vain  and  bitter  things 

My  zeal,  and  pride,  and  natural  haste  have  wrought; 

Yea,  thou  my  soul,  by  word  and  deed  and  thought, 
The  curse  of  selfishness  hath  scorch'd  thy  wings: 

There  is  a  fire  within,  I  feel  it  now, 
A  smouldering  mass  of  strong  imaginings 

That  heat  my  heart,  and  burn  upon  iny  brow, 
And  vent  their  hissing  lava  on  my  tongue, 

Scathing,  unsparing :  —  yet,  my  will  is  just, 
My  wrath  is  ever  quickened  by  a  wrong, 


A   SONG.  345 

I  flame  —  to  strike  oppressors  to  the  dust, 
To  crush  the  cruel,  and  confound 'the  base, 

To  welcome  insolence  with  calm  disgust, 

And  brand  the  scoffer's  forehead  with  disgrace. 


A    SONG. 

AH  Memory!   why  reproach  me  so 

With  shadows  of  the  past, 
The  thrilling  hopes  of  long  ago 

That  came  and  went  so  fast5 
Ye  tender  tones  of  that  dear  voice, 

Ye  looks  of  those  loved  eyes,  — 
Return,  —  and  bid  my  heart  rejoice, 

For  true  love  never  dies! 

Rejoice?  —  O  word  of  hope!  I  may 
When  those  indeed  return: 

For  looks  and  tones  so  past  away 
In  solitude  I  yearn! 

Let  others  fancy  I  forget 
The  light  of  those  dear  eyes,— 
love,  —  O  how  I  love  thee  yet! 
For  true  love  never  dies. 


846  HACTENUS. 

-    •  - 

CHEER    UP. 

FOR   MUSIC. 

NEVER  go  gloomily,  man  with  a  mind! 
Hope  is  a  better  companion  than  fear, 
Providence,  ever  benignant  and  kind, 

Gives  with  a  smile  what  you  take  with  a  tear; 
All  will  be  right, 
Look  to  the  light, — 
Morning  is  ever  the  daughter  of  night, 
All  that  was  black  will  be  all  that  is  bright, 
Cheerily,  cheerily  then !  cheer  up ! 

Many  a  foe  is  a  friend  in  disguise, 

Many  a  sorrow  a  blessing  most  true, 
Helping  the  heart  to  be  happy  and  wise, 
With  lore  ever  precious  and  joys  ever  new. 
Stand  in  the  van ! 
Strive  like  a  man ! 

This  is  the  bravest  and  cleverest  plan, 
Trusting  in  God,  while  you  do  what  you  can, 
Cheerily,  cheerily  then !  cheer  up ! 


"TOGETHER." 

*• 

FOR  MUSIC. 

• 

THE  elm  tree  of  old  felt  lonely  and  cold 

When  wintry  winds  blew  high, 
And,  looking  below,  he  saw  in  the  snow 

The  ivy  wandering  nigh; 
And  he  said,  Come  twine  with  those  tendrils  of  thine 


FRIENDS. 


My  scathed  and  frozen  form, 
For  heart  and  hand  together  we'll  stand, 
And  mock  at  the  baffled  storm, 

Ha,  ha!   Together. 

And  so  when  grief  is  withering  the  leaf, 

And  checking  hope's  young  flower, 
And  frosts  do  bite  with  their  teeth  so  white 

In  disappointment's  hour, 
Tho'  it  might  o'erwhelm  either  ivy  or  elm 

If  alone  each  stood  in  the  strife, 
If  heart  and  hand  together  they  stand, 

They  may  laugh  at  the  troubles  of  life, 
Ha,  ha!  Together. 


FRIENDS. 

I  CANNOT  move  a  mile  upon  this  earth, 

I  could  not,  did  I  walk  from  end  to  end, 
But  there  I  find  a  heart  of  wit  and  worth, 

Some  gracious  spirit  to  be  hailed  a  friend : 
O  there  are  frequent  angels  unawares, 

And  many  have  I  met  upon  my  way, 
Kind  Christian  souls,  to  make  me  rich  with  prayers, 

Whilst  in  like  coin  their  mercies  I  repay; 
And  oft  the  sun  of  praise  hath  lit  mine  eyes, 

Generous  praise  and  just  encouragement, 
From  some  who  say  I  help  them  to  be  wise, 

And  teach  them  to  be  happy  in  content: 
Ah  soul,  rejoice !   for  thou  hast  thickly  sown 
The  living  world  with  friendships  all  thine  own. 


348  HACTENUS. 


A    GREETING. 

IT  were  not  well  to  vex  thee  with  my  praises, 

Yet  I  am  quick  to  read  thy  gifts  aright, 
Loving,  sincere,  and  wise,  —  in  three  best  phases, 

Young  heart,  I  note  thy  characters  of  light ; 
Spirits  are  keen  to  make  such  instant  guesses ; 

For  time  is  nothing  to  the  Soul  that  lives; 
Therefore  my  spirit  thy  good  spirit  blesses, 

Therefore  my  Mind  its  cordial  greeting  gives, — 
Its  greeting?  —  of  a  moment,  sad  to  tell, 
For  all  my  greeting  is  a  true  Farewell ! 


HORACE'S    PHILOSOPHY, 
in.  29. 

WISELY  for  us  within  night's  sable  veil 
God  hides  the  future ;  and,  if  men  turn  pale 
For  dread  distrusting,  laughs  their  fear  to  scorn. 

For  thee,  the  present  calmly  order  well: 
All  else  as  on  a  river's  tide  is  borne, 
Now  flowing  peaceful  to  the  Tuscan  sea 

Down  the  mid-channel  on  a  gentle  swell; 
Now,  as  the  hoarse,  fierce  mandate  of  the  flood 
Stirs  up  the  quiet  stream,  time-eaten  rocks 
Go  hurrying  down,  with  houses,  herds,  and  flocks, 
And  echoes  from  the  mountain  and  the  wood. 
He  stands  alone,  glad,»  self-possessed,  and  free, 
Who  grateful  for  to-day  can  say,  I  live; 
To-morrow  let  my  Father  take  or  give: 


"THE   LAST   TIME."  849 

n. 

As  He  may  will,  not  I  —  with  dark  or  light 

Let  God  ordain  the  morrow,  noon,  or  night. 

He,  even  He,  can  never  render  vain 

The  past  behind  me ;  nor  bring  back  again 

What  any  transient  hour  has  once  made  fact. 

Fortune,  rejoicing  in  each  cruel  act, 

And  playing  frowardly  a  saucy  game, 

Dispenses  changeful  and  uncertain  fame. 

Now  kind  to  me,  and  now  to  some  beside. 

I  praise  her  here :  but  if  it  should  betide 

She  spreads  her  wings  for  flight,  I  hold  no  more 

The  good  she  gave,  but  in  mine  honest  worth, 

Clad  like  a  man,  go  honorably  forth 
To  seek  the  undowried  portion  of  the  poor. 


"THE    LAST    TIME." 

ANOTHER  year  ?  another  year ! 

Who  dare  depend  on  other  years  ? 
The  judgment  of  this  world  is  near, 

And  all  its  children  faint  for  fears: 
Famine,  pestilence,  and  war, 

Mixt  with  praises,  prayers,  and  tears 
Civil  strife  and  social  jar, 

Spurr'd  by  pen,  and  stirr'd  by  sword, 
Herald  Him  who  comes  from  far, 
In  Elijah's  fiery  car, 

Our  own  returning  Lord ! 

Look  around  —  the  nations  quail ! 

All  the  elements  of  ill 
Crowd  like  locusts  on  the  gale, 

And  the  dark  horizon  fill: 


850  HACTENUS. 

Woe  to  earth,  and  all  her  seed! 

Woe,  they  run  to  ruin  still :  — 
He  that  runneth  well  may  read 

Texts  of  truth  the  times  afford, 
How,  in  earth's  extremes!  need 
Cometh,  cometh  soon  indeed 

Our  own  redeeming  Lord! 

Lo,  the  marvels  passing  strange 

Every  teeming  hour  brings, 
.Daily  turns  with  sudden  change 

The  kaleidoscope  of  things  ; 
But  the  Ruler,  just  and  wise, 

Orders  all,  as  King  of  kings,  — 
Hark!   His  thunders  shake  the  skies, 

Lo  !  His  vials  are  outpour'd ! 
Earth  in  bitter  travail  lies, 
And  creation  groans  and  cries 

For  our  expected  Lord ! 

Stand  in  courage,  stand  in  faith ! 

Tremble  not  as  others  may ; 
He  that  conquers  hell  and  death 

Is  the  friend  of  those  who  pray . 
Apd  in  this  world's  destined  woe. 

He  will  save  his  own  alway 
From  the  trial's  furnace  glow,  —  • 

Till  the  harvest  all  is  stor'd, 
Rescu'd  from  each  earthly  foe, 
And  the  terrible  ones  below, 

By  our  avenging  Lord ! 

Yea,  come  quickly !   Savior,  come 
Take  us  to  thy  glorious  rest, 

All  thy  children  yearn  for  home, 
Home,  the  heaven  of  thy  breast 

Help,  with  instant  gracious  aid! 
That  in  just  assurance  blest, 

We  may  watch  —  nor  feel  afraid, 


THE   POET'S    WEALTH.  Ml 

Every  warning  in  thy  word, 
Signs  and  tokens  all  array'd 
In  proof  of  that  for  which  we  pray'd, 

The  coming  of  the  Lord ! 


THE    POET'S    WEALTH. 

I  NUMBER  you  by  thousands,  unseen  friends, 

And  dearly  precious  is  your  love  to  me ; 

Yea,  what  a  goodly  company  ye  be ! 
Far  as  the  noble  brotherhood,  extends 

Of  Saxon  hearts  and  tongues  o'er  land  and  sea: 
How  rich  am  I  in  love !  —  the  sweet  amends 

For  all  whatever  little  'else  of  pain 
Some  few  unkindly  cause;  —  most  rich  in  love, 

From  mine  own  home  to  earth's  remotest  ends: 
Let  me  then  count  my  store,  my  glorious  gain, 

This  wealth,  that  my  poor  merit  far  transcends, 
Your  loving  kindness,  echoing  from  above 
The  Highest  Blessing  on  my  works  and  ways, 
Ev  Sovit  ctyaQi ,  my  Father's  praise : 

Yea,  let  me  thank  you ;  let  my  heart  outpour 

Unbidden  notes  of  honest  gratitude 
To  all  whose  yearnings  follow  me  with  good, 
Loving  my  mind  and  all  its  humble  store: 

O  generous  friends !  —  a  cordial  multitude 
Hived  in  the  West,  upon  that  busy  shore 

Where  fair  Columbia,  Britain's  child,  is  throned 

Imperial,  yet  with  empire  all  unowned,  — 
O  generous  friends  !  —  another  cordial  band, 

From  far  Australia  to  the  Arctic  seas, 
And  crowds  around  me  in  my  own  dear  land, — 

How,  how  to  thank  for  mercies  rich  as  these  ? 
Lo,  let  me  stand  and  bless  from  East  to  West, 


852  HACTENUS. 

"From  North  to  South,  —  because  I  thus  am  blest! 

Aye :  blest  indeed  above  the  lot  of  men, 

And  rich  in  joys  that  reach  the  true  sublime! 

For  that  the  magic-music  of  my  pen 

Hath  won  such  wealth  of  love  in  every  clime, 
And  still  shall  win  such  treasure  for  all  time, 

Therefore  my  soul  is  glad :  judge  me,  my  friends, 
Is  not  the  poet  wealthier  in  his  joys 
Than  Attalus  with  all  his  golden  toys  ? 

And,  as  his  growing  dynasty  extends 
To  children's  children,  reigning  in  the  mind, 
Is  he  not  great,  a  monarch  of  his  kind? 
Ah  me !  not  so :  this  thought  of  pride  destroys : 

Give  God  the  praise :  His  blessings  send  this  store 

Of  unseen  friends  by  thousands  evermore ! 


GESl 


OTHER    POEMS. 


PREFACE. 


INCLUDING  A  SKETCH   OF   CHRISTABEL, 

THE  Christabel  of  Coleridge  is  a  poem  of  which  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  give  shortly  a  fair  and  perfect  abstract.  Every  word  tells  ;  every  line 
is  a  picture  :  simple,  beautiful,  and  imaginative,  it  retains  its  hold  upon 
the  mind  by  so  many  delicate  feelers  and  touching  points,  that  to  outline 
harshly  the  main  branches  of  the  tree,  would  seem  to  be  doing  the 
injustice  of  neglect  to  the  elegance  of  its  foliage,  and  the  microscopic 
perfection  of  every  single  leaf.  Those  who  now  read  it  for  the  first 
time,  will  scarcely  be  disposed  to  assent  t  so  much  praise  ;  but  the  man 
to  whom  it  is  familiar,  will  remember  he  v  it  has  grown  to  his  own 
liking,  how  much  of  melody,  depth,  nature,  a.  d  invention,  he  has  found 
from  time  to  time  hiding  in  some  simple  phrase,  or  unobtrusive  epithet. 
Most  gladly,  therefore,  do  I  refer  my  readers  to  the  Christabel  itself, 
however  it  may  tell  to  the  disadvantage  of  Geraldine  :  at  the  same  time, 
inasmuch  as  there  may  be  many  to  whom  the  sequel  will  be  obscure, 
from  having  had  no  opportunity  of  perusing  the  prior  poem,  I  trust  I 
shall  be  pardoned,  if,  in  consulting  the  interest  of  some,  of  my  readers, 
I  mar  the  fair  memory  of  Christabel  by  a  sketch  so  imperfect,  as  only  to 
serve  the  purpose  of  explaining  myself. 

The  heroine  of  Coleridge  is  a  "  blue-eyed  "  girl,  "  O  call  her  fair,  not 
pale ; "  and  is  introduced  as  "  praying  in  the  midnight  wood,"  "  beneath 
the  huge  oak  tree,"  "  for  the  weal  of  her  lover  that's  far  away."  Whil« 
thus  engaged,  she  is  startled  by'"  moanings,"  and  on  the  "  other  side  of 
the  oak,"  finds  "  a  damsel  bright "  "  in  sore  distress  "  and  "  weariness ; " 
in  fact,  the  dark-eyed  Geraldine,  whose  sudden  appearance  is  by  herself 
very  suspiciously  explained.  Christabel,  "comforting  her,"  takes  he* 


356  PREFACE. 

home  to  Langdalc-Hall,  the  castle  of  Sir  Leoline,  where  the  howl  of  "  the 
mastiff-bitch  "  seems  to  bode  evil,  and  some  wild  expressions  addressed 
by  Geraldine  to  ChTistabel's  "  guardian  .spirit,"  her  dead  mother  (who 
had  "  said  that  she  should  hear  the  castle-bell  strike  twelve  upon  her 
[daughter's]  wedding  day"),  gives  the  first  clue  to  the  wicked  and 
supernatural  character  of  Geraldine.  The  maidens  now  retiring  to  rest 
together,  the  beautiful  stranger's  "  bosom  and  half  her  side,"  —  "  old  " 
"  and  cold,"  suggest  vague  alarms,  and  "  for  an  hour "  Christabel  in 
"  her  arms  "  is  dreaming  fearfully,  —  from  which  state  of  terror  she  is 
delivered  by  her  guardian  mother. 

The  second  part  opens  with  the  introduction  of  Geraldine  to  Sir  Leo- 
line,  who  recognises  in  the  "  lofty  lady,"  the  daughter  of  his  once 
"  friend  in  youth,"  "  Roiand  de  Vaux,  of  Tryermaine,"  who  had  parted 
from  Sir  Leoline  many  years  ago  "in  disdain  and  insult."  At  her  tale, 
(which  I  am  pleased  to  consider  a  fabrication,  as  also  the  likeness  to 
Roland's  daughter  to  be  a  piece  of  witchcraft,)  the  Baron  is  highly 
indignant,  and  vows  to  avenge  "  the  child  of  his  friend."  Meanwhile, 
poor  Christabel  is.  under  a  mysterious  spell,  subjected  to  "  perplexity  of 
mind,"  "  a  vision  of  fear,"  and  "  snake-like  looks  "  of  the  rival  beauty; 
albeit  "  comforted "  by  a  "  vision  blest."  Sir  Leoline,  glad  of  the 
opportunity  of  a  reconciliation  to  his  long-lost  friend,  sends  "  Bracy  the 
Dard,"  -with  "harp"  and  "'solemn  vest,"  by  "Irt-(hing)  flood,"  &c.,  to 
Roland's  border-castle,  commissioning  him  to  «»  greet  Lord  Roland," 
acquaint  him  that  "  his  daughter  is  safe  in  Langdale-IIall,"  and  bidding 
him  "  come  "  with  "  all  his  numerous  array  "  to  meet  Sir  Leoline  "  with 
his  own  numerous  array,  ^  "  panting  palfreys,"  and  to  be  friends  once 
more.  "  Bard  Bracy "  hesitates,  on  account  of  having  dreamt  that 
Christabel  —  "  the  dove  "  —  had  "  a  green  snake  "  "  coiled  around  its 
wings  and  neck,"  "  underneath  the  old  tree  ;  "  and  having  "  vowed," 
"  with  music  strong  and  saintly  song,"  to  exorcise  the  forest.  The 
Baron  interprets  it  as  of  "  Lord  Roland's  beauteous  dove,"  and  when 
Christabel,  who  had  ever  and  anon  been  tortured  by  "  looks  askance  " 
of  "  dull  and  treacherous  hate,"  entreats  him  by  her  "  mother's  soul  to 
send  away  that  woman,"  he,  accounting  "  his  child "  jealous  of  the 
radiant  stranger,  and  no  doubt  alicnateci,by  black  arts  from  his  daughter, 
as  the  lover  is  afterwards,  seems  full  of  wrath,  and,  "  in  tones  abrupt, 
austere,"  sends  the  reluctant  Bracy  on  his  mission. 

Thus  far  Christabel :  for  the  "  Conclusion  to  part  the  second,"  how- 
ever beautiful  in  itself,  is  clearly  out  of  place,  unless  it  was  intended  as 
a  mystification. 

And  now,  on  my  own  portion,  I   may  be  permitted  to  make  a  few 


PREFACE.  357 

remarks.  My  excuse  for  continuing  the  fragment  at  all,  -will  be  found 
in  Coleridge's  own  words  to  the  preface  of  the  1816  pamphlet  edition, 
where  he  says,  "  I  trust  that  I  shall  be  able  to  embody  in  verse  the 
three  parts  yet  to  come,  in  the  course  of  the  present  year ;  "  a  half- 
promise,  which,  I  need  scarcely  observe,  has  never  been  redeemed. 

In  the  following  attempt  I  may  be  censured  for  rashness,  or  com- 
mended for  courage  :  of  course,  I  am  fully  aware  that  to  take  up  the  pen 
where  COLEKIDGE  has  laid  it  down,  —  and  that  in  the  wildest  and  most 
original  of  his  poems,  —  is  a  most  difficult,  nay,  dangerous  proceeding : 
but,  upon  these  very  characteristics  of  difficulty  and  danger  I  humbly 
rely  ;  trusting  that,  in  all  proper  consideration  for  the  boldness  of  the 
experiment,  if  I  be  adjudged  to  fail,  the  fall  of  Icarus  may  be  broken ; 
if  I  be  accounted  to  succeed,  the  flight  of  Daedalus  may  apologize  for 
his  presumption. 

I  deem  it  due  to  myself  to  add  what  I  trust  will  not  be  turned  against 
me,  viz. :  that,  if  not  written  literally  currente  calamo,  GERAXDIXE  has 
been  the  pleasant  labor  of  but  very  few  days  :  also,  that  until  I  had  just 
completed  it,  I  did  not  know  of  the  existence  of  the  proposed  solutioa 
of  Christabel  in  a  recent  life  of  Coleridge,  and  at  that  period  saw  no 
reason  to  make  any  change  in  mine :  and  finally,  that  I  should  wish  to 
be  judged  bv  the  whole  volume,  and  not  by  GEBALDINE  alone. 

M.  F.  T. 


GERALDINB. 


PART    I. 

(BEING  THE   THIRD   OF    CHRISTABEL.) 

IT  is  the  wolf  on  stealthy  prowl, 

Hath  startled  the  night  with  a  dismal  howl, 

It  is  the  raven,  whose  hoarse  croak 

Coines  like  a  groan  from  the  sear  old  oak, 

It  is  the  owl,  whose  curdling  screech 

Hath  peopled  with  terrors  the  spectral  beech ; 

For  again  the  clock  hath  tolled  out  twelve} 

And  sent  to  their  gambols  the  gnome  and  the  elve, 

And  awoken  the  friar  his  beads  to  tell, 

And  taught  the  magician  the  time  for  his  spell, 

And  to  her  cauldron  hath  hurried  the  witch, 

And  aroused  the  deep  bay  of  the  mastiff  bitch. 

* 

The  gibbous  moon,  all  chilling  and  wan, 
Like  a  sleepless  eyeball^  looketh  on, 
Like  an  eyeball  of  sorro^behind  a  shroud 
Forth  looketh  she  from  a  torn  grey  .cloud, 
Pouring  sad  radiance  on  the  black  air,  — 
Sun  of  the  night,  —  what  sees  she  there  ? 
O  lonely  one,  O  lovely  one, 
What  dost  thou  here  in  the  forest  dun, 
Fair  truant,  like  an  angel  of  light 


360  GERALDINE. 

Hiding  from  heaven  in  deep  midnight? 
Alas !   there  is  guilt  in  thy  glittering  eye, 
As  fearfully  dark  it  looks  up  to  the  sky ; 
Alas !   a  dull  unearthly  light 
Like  a  dead  star,  bluely  white ; 
A  seal  of  sin,  I  note  it  now, 
Flickers  upon  thy  ghastly  brow  j 
And  about  the  huge  old  oak 
Thickly  curls  a  poisonous  smoke, 
And  terrible  shapes  with  evil  names 
Are  leaping  around  a  circle  of  flames, 
And  the  tost  air  whirls,  storm-driven, 
And  the  rent  earth  quakes,  charm-riven,  -  - 
And  —  art  thou  not  afraid  ? 

All  dauntless  stands  the  maid 
In  mystical  robe  array'd, 
And  still  with  flashing  eyes 
She  dares  the  sorrowful  skies, 
And  to  the  moon,  like  one  possest, 

Hath  shown,  —  O  dread !   that  face  so  fair 
Should  smile  above  so  shrunk  a  breast, 

Haggard  and  brown,  as  hangeth  there, — 
O  evil  sight,  wrinkled  and  old, 
•  The  dug  of  a  witch,  and  clammy  cold,  — 
Where  in  warm  beauty's  rarest  mould 

Is  fashioned  all  the  rest  -T 
O  evil  sight!   for,  by  the  light 
From  those  large  eyes  streaming  bright, 
By  thy  beauty's  wondrous  sheen, 
Lofty  gait  and  graceful  mien, 
By  that  bosom  half  reveal'd, 
Wither'd,  and  as  in^death  congeal'd. 
By  the  guUt  upon  thy  brow, 
Ah !   Geraldine,  'tis  thou 

Muttering  wildly  through  her  set  teeth, 

She  seeketh  and  stirreth  the  demons  beneath, 

And  —  hist !  —  the  magical  mandate  is  spoken, 


GER'ALDIXE.  J61 

"The  bonds  of  the  spirit  of  evil  are  broken, 
There  is  a  rush  of  invisible  wings 
Amid  shrinks  and  distant  thunderings, 
And  now  one  nearer  than  others  is  heard 
Flapping  his  way  as  a  huge  seabird, 
Or  liker  the  deep-dwelling  ravenous  shark 
Cleaving  through  the  waters  dark. 

It  is  the  hour,  the  spell  hath  power! 
Now  haste  thee,  ere  the  tempest  lower. 

Her  mouth  grows  wide,  and  her  face  falls  in, 

And  her  beautiful  brow  becomes  flat  and  thin, 

And  sulphurous  flashes  blear  and  singe 

That  sweetest  of  eyes  with  its  delicate  fringe, 

Till,  all  its  loveliness  blasted  and  dead, 

The  eye  of  a  snake  blinks  deep  in  her  head ; 

For  raven  locks  flowing  loose  and  long 

Bristles  a  red  mane,  stiff  and  strong, 

And  sea-green  scales  are  beginning  to  speck 

Her  shrunken  breasts,  and  lengthening  neck; 

The  white  round  arms  are  sunk  in  her  sides^ — 

As  when  in  chrysalis  canoe 
A  may-fly  down  the  river  glides, 

Struggling  for  life  and  liberty  too, — 
Her  body  convulsively  twists  and  twirls. 
This  way  and  that  it  bows  and  curls, 
And  now  her  soft  limbs  melt  into  one 
Strangely  and  horribly  tapering  down, 
Till  on  the  burnt  grass  dimly  is  seen 
A  serpent  monster,  scaly  and  green. 
Horror !  —  can  this  be  Geraldine  ? 
Haste,  O  haste,  —  'tis  almost  past, 
The  sand  is  dripping  thick  and  fast ; 
And  distant  roars  the  coming  blast 

Swiftly  the  dragon-maid  unroll'd 
The  burnished  strength  of  each  sinewv  told, 
And  round  the  old  oak  trunk  with  toil 
16 


862  GERALDINE. 

Hath  wound  and  trailed  each  tortuous  coil, 
Then  with  one  crush  hath  splitten  and  broke 
The  hollow  black  heart  of  the  sear  old  oak. 

The  hour  is  fled,  the  spell  hath  sped ; 
And  heavily  dropping  down  as  dead, 
All  in  her  own  beauty  drest, 
Brightest,  softest,  loveliest, 
Fair  faint  Geraldine  lies  on  the  ground, 

Moaning  sadly  ; 
And  forth  from  the  oak, 
In  a  whirl  of  thick  smoke, 

Grinning  gladly, 

Leaps  with  a  hideous  howl  at  a  bound 
A  squat  black  dwarf  of  visage  grim, 
With  crutches  beside  each  twisted  limb 
Half-hidden  in  many  a  flame-colored  rag,  — 
It  is  Ryxa  the  Hag! 

Ho,  ho!   what  wouldst  thon,  daughter  mine, 
Wishes  three,  or  curses  nine  ? 
•>  Wishes  three  to  work  thy  will, 
Or  curses  nine  thy  hate  to  fulfil  ? 

Ryxa,  spite  of  thy  last  strong  charm, 
Some  pure  spirit  saves  from  harm 
Her,  who  before  me  was  loved  too  well, 
Our  holy  hated  Christabel: 
Her  who  stole  my  heart  from  him, 
One  of  the  guardian  cherubim, 
Hovers  around,  and  cheers  in  dreams, 
Thwarting  from  heaven  rny  hell-bought  schemes 
Now,  —  for  another  five  hundred  years, 

O  mother  mine,  will  I  be  thine, 
To  writhe  in  pains,  and  shriek  in  fears, 
And  toil  in  chains,  and  waste  in  tears, 
So  thy  might  will  scorch  and  smite 
The  beautiful  face  of  Christabel, 
.  And  will  drain  by  jealous  pain 


GERALDINE. 

Love  from  the  heart  of  Christabel,  — 
And  her  own  betrothed  knight, 
O  glad  sight !   shall  scorn  and  slight 

The  pale  one  he  hath  loved  so  well, 
While  in  my  arms,  by  stolen  charms 
And  borrowed  mien,  for  Geraldine 

He  shall  forget  his  Christabel. 

It  is  done,  it  is  done,  thy  cause  is  won! 

Quoth  Ryxa  the  Hag  to  Geraldine; 
Thus  have  I  prest  my  seal  on  thy  breast, 
Twelve  circling  scales  from  a  dragon's  crest, 
And  still  thy  bosom  and  half  thy  side 
Must  shrivel  and  sink  at  eventide, 
And  still,  as  every  Sabbath  breaks, 
Thy  large  dark  eyes  must  blink  as  a  snake's. 
Nowj  for  mine  aid :  —  De  Vaux  doth  come 
To  lead  his  seeming  daughter  home, 
Therefore  I  fit  thee  a  shape  and  a  face 
Differing,  yet  of  twin-born  grace, 
That  all  who  see  thee  may  fall  down 
Heart-worshippers  before  thy  throne, 
Forgetting  in  that  vision  sweet 
Thy  former  tale  of  dull  deceit, 
And  tranc'd  in  deep  oblivious  joy, 
Bask  in  bliss  without  alloy : 
He  too,  thou  lovest,  in  thine  arms, 
Shall  grace  the  triumph  of  thy  charms, 
While  thy  thirsty  rage  thou  satest 
In  the  woes  of  her  thou  hatest. 
Yet,  daughter,  hark !   my  warning  mark ! 
Hallowed  deed,  or  word,  or  thought, 
Is  with  deadliest  peril  fraught; 
And  if,  where  true  lovers  meet, 
Thou  hearest  hymning  wild  and  s"weet, 
O  stop  thine  ears,  lest  all  be  marr'd,  — 
Beware,  beware  of  holy  bard  ! 
For  that  the  power  of  hymn  and  harp 
Thine  innermost  being  shall  wither  and  warp, 


38*  GEBALDINE. 

And  the  same  hour  they  touch  thine  ear*, 
A  serpent  thou  art  for  a  thousand  years. 

Hush !   how  heavily  droops  the  night 

In  sultry  silence,  calm  as  death ; 
Gloomy  and  hot,  and  yet  no  light, 

Save  where  the  glow-worm  wandereth, 
For  the  moon  hath  stolen  by, 
Mantled  in  the  stormy  sky, 
And  there  is  a  stillness  strange, 
An  awful  stillness,  boding  change, 
As  if  live  nature  holds  her  breath, 
And  all  in  agony  listeneth 
Some  terror  undefin'd  to  hear 
Coming,  coming,  coming  near ! 
Hush'd  is  the  beetle's  drowsy  hum, 
And  the  death-watch's  roll  on  his  warning  drum, 
Hush'd  the  raven,  and  screech  owl, 
And  the  famishing  wolf  on  his  midnight  prowl, — 

Silent  as  death. 

Hark,  hark!   he  is  here,  he  has  come  from  afar, 
The  black-rob'd  storm  in  his  terrible  car; 
Vivid  the  forked  lightning  flashes, 
Quick  behind  the  thunder  crashes, 
Clattering  hail,  a  shingly  flood, 
Rattles  like  grape-shot  in  the  wood ; 
And  the  whole  forest  is  bent  one  way, 
Bowing  as  slaves  to  a  tyrant's  sway, 
While  the  foot  of  the  tempest  hath  trampled  and  broke 
Many  a  stout  old  elm  and  oak. 

And  Geraldine  ?   O  who  could  tell 
That  thou  who  by  sweet  Christabel, 
Softly  liest  in  innocent  sleep, 
Like  an  infant's,  calm  and  deep, 
Smiling  faintly,  as  it  seems 
From  thy  bright  and  rosy  dreams, 
Who  could  augur  thou  art  she 
That  around  the  hollow  tree* 


GERALDIXE.  365 

With  bad  charm  and  hellish  rite 

Shook  the  heav'ns,  and  scar'd  the  night? 

Alas !   for  gentle  Christabel, 
Alas !   for  wasting  Christabel ; 
From  evil  eye,  and  powers  of  hell, 
And  the  strong  magic  of  the  spell, 
Holy  Mary,  shield  her  well ! 


CONCLUSION    TO    PART    I. 

THE  murderer's  knife  is  a  fearful  thing, 

But  what,  were  it  edg'd  with  a  scorpion's  sting? 

A  dagger  of  glass  Hath  death  in  its  stroke, 

But  what,  should  venom  gush  out  as  it  broke  ? 

And  hatred  in  man's  deep  heart 

Festereth  there  like  the  barb  of  a  dart, 

Maddening  the  fibres  at  every  beat, 

And  filling  its  caverns  with  fever-heat ; 

But  jealous  rage  in  a  woman's  soul 

Simmers  and  steams  as  a  poison-bowl : 

A  drop  were  death,  but  the  rival  maid 

Must  drain  all  dry,  e'er  the  passion  be  staid : ' 

It  floodeth  the  bosom  with  bitterest  gall, 

It  drowneth  the  young  virtues  all, 

And  the  sweet  milk  of  the  heart's  own  fountain, 

Chok'd  and  crush'd  by  a  heavy  mountain, 

All  curdled,  and  hardened,  and  blackened,  doth  shrink 

Into  the  sepia's  stone-bound  ink ; 

The  eye  of  suspicion  deep  sunk  in  the  head 

Shrinks  and  blinks  with  malice  and  dread, 

And  the  cheek  without  and  the  heart  within 

Are  blistered  and  blighted  with  searing  sin, 

Till  charity's  self  no  more  can  trace 

Aught  that  is  lovely  in  feature  or  face, 


3ff6  OKRALDESTE. 

But  the  rose-bud  is  canker'd,  and  shall  not  bloom, 

Corruption  hath  scented  the  rich  perfume, 

The  angel  of  light  is  a  demon  of  gjoom, 

And  the  bruise  on  his  brow  is  the  seal  of  his  doom. 

Ah !  poor  unconscious  rival  maid, 

How  drearily  must  thou  sicken  and  fade 

In  the  foul  air  of  that  Upas-shade ! 

Her  heart  must  be  tried,  and  trampled,  and  torn 

With  fear,  and  care,  and  slander,  and  scorn ; 

Her  love  must  look  upon  love  estranged, 

Her  eye  must  meet  his  eye,  how  changed! 

Her  hand  must  take  his  hand  unpressing, 

Her  hope  must  die,  without  confessing ; 

And  still  she'll  strive  her  love  to  smother, 

While  in  the  triumphs  of  another 

The  shadow  of  her  joys  departed 

Shall  scare  and  haunt  her  broken-hearted ; 

And  he,  who  once  lov'd  her,  his  purest,  his  first, 

Must  hate  her  and  hold  her  defil'd  and  accurst,        • 

Till,  wasted  and  desolate,  calumny's  breath 

Must  taint  with  all  guilt  her  innocent  death. 


GERALDINE.  M7 


PART    II. 


How  fresh  and  fair  is  morn ! 

The  dew-beads  dropping  bright 
Each  humble  flower  adorn, 

With  coronets  bedight, 
And  jewel  the  rough  thorn 

With  tiny  globes  of  light,  — 
How  beautiful  is  morn! 

Her  scatter'd  gems  how  bright 

There  is  a  quiet  gladness 

In  the  waking  earth, 
Like  the  face  of  sadness 

Lit  with  chasten'd  mirth* 
There  is  a  mine  of  treasure 

In  those  hours  of  health, 
Filling  up  the  measure 

Of  creation's  wealth. 

The  eye  of  day  hath  opened  grey, 

And  the  gallant  sun 
Hath  trick'd  his  beams  by  Rydal's  streams 

And  waveless  Coniston ; 
From  Langdale  Pikes  his  glory  strikes, 

From  heath  and  giant  hill, 
From  many  a  tairn,  and  stone-built  caini, 

And  many  a  mountain  rill : 

Helvellyn  bares  his  forehead  black, 
And  Eagle-crag,  and  Saddleback, 


GERALDINE. 

And  Skiddaw  hails  the  dawning  day, 
And  rolls  his  robe  of  clouds  away. 

Ho,  warder,  ho !   in  chivalrous  state, 
A  stranger-knight  .to  the  castle  gate, 
With  trumpet,  and  banner,  and  mailed  men, 
Comes  this  way  winding  up  the  glen: 
His  vizor  is  down,  and  he  will  not  proclaim 
To  the  challenge  within  his  lineage  or  name, 
Yet  by  his  heralds,  and  esquires  eight, 
And  five-score  spearmen,  tall  and  straight, 
And  blazon  rich  with  bearings  rare, 
And  high-bred  ease,  and  noble  air, 
And  golden  spurs,  and  sword,  can  he  be 
Nought  but  a  knight  of  high  degree. 

Alas !  they  had  lov'd  too  soon,  too  well, 

Young  Amador  and  Christabel ; 

Life's  dawn  beheld  them,  blithe  and  bland 

Little  playmates,  hand  in  hand, 

Over  fell  and  field  and  heather 

Wandering  innocent  together, 

Alone  in  childhood's  rosy  hours 

Straying  far  to  find  wild  flowers ; 

Life's  sun  above  the  eastern  hill 

Saw  them  inseparable  still 

In  the  bow'r,  or  by  the  brook, 

Or  spelling  out  the  monkish  book, 

Or  as  with  songs  they  wont  to  wake 

The  echoes  on  the  hill-bound  lake, 

Or  as  with  tales  to  while  away 

The  winter's  night,  or  summer's  day ; 

Life's  noon  was  blazing  bright  and  fair, 

To  smile  upon  the  same  fond  pair, 

The  handsome  youth,  the  beauteous  maid, 

Together  still  in  sun  or  shade: 

Warmer,  good  sooth,  than  wont  with  friends, 

While  he  supports,  and  she  depends, 

Aa  to  some  dangerous,  craggy  height 


GERALDINE.  369 

They  climb  with  terror  and  delight, 

Nor  guess  that  the  strange  joy  they  feel, 

The  rapture  making  their  hearts  reel, 

Springs  from  aught  else  than  —  sweet  Grasmere, 

Or  hill  and  valley  far  and  near, 

Or  Derwent's  banks  and  glassy  tide, 

Lowdore,  or  hawthorn'd  Ambleside : 

Nor  reck  they  what  dear  danger  lies 

In  gazing  on  each  other's  eyes; 

On  her  bright  cheek,  fresh  and  fair, 

Blooming  in  the  mountain  air, 

On  his  form,  and  agile  limbs, 

As  from  rock  to  rock  he  climbs, 

Her  unstudied,  natural  grace, 

Loosen'd  vest  and  tresses  flowing, 
Or  his  fine  and  manly  face 

With  delighted  ardor  glowing. 

Thus  they  grew  up  in  each  other, 

Till  to  ripen'd  youth 
They  have  grown  up  for  each  'other ; 

Yet,  to  say  but  sooth, 
She  had  not  lov'd  him,  as  other 

Than  a  sister  doth, 
And  he  to  her  was  but  a  brother, 

With  a  brother's  troth: 
But  selfish  craft  that  slept  so  long, 
And,  if  wrong  were,  had  done  the  wrong, 
Now,  just  awake,  with  dull  surprise 

Read  the  strange  truth, 
And  from  their  own  accusing  eyes 

Condemned  them  both,  — 
That  they,  who  only  for  each  other  • 

Gladly  drew  their  daily  breath, 
Now  must  curb,  and  check,  and -smother, 

Through  all  life,  love  strong  as  death; 
While  the  dear  hope  they  just  have  learnt  to  prize, 

And  fondly  cherish, 

The  hope  that  in  their  hearts  deep-rooted  lies, 
16* 


GERALDINE. 

Must  pine  and  perish : 
For  the  slow  prudence  of  the  worldly  wise, 
In  cruel  coldness  still  denies 
The  fondling  youth  to  woo  and  win 
The  heiress  daughter  of  Leoline. 

And  yet  how  little  had  he  err'd, 
That  on  his  ear  the  bitter  word 

Of  harsh  reproach  should  fall,  - — 
"  Is  it  then  thus,  ungrateful  boy, 
Thou  wouldst  his  dearest  hope  destroy 

Who  lent  thee  life  and  all? 
Why  did  I  save  thee,  years  agone, 
Beneath  the  tottering  Bowther-stone, 

An  infant  weak  and  wan  ? 
Why  did  I  warm  thee  on  my  hearth, 
Nor  crush  the  viper  in  its  birth, 

O  thou  presumptuous  one  ?  " 

They  met  once  more,  in  sweet,  sad  fear, 

At  the  old  oak  tree  in  the  forest  drear, 

And,  as  enamor'd  of  bitterness,  they 

Wept  the  sad  hour  of  parting  away, 

The  bursting  tear,  the  stifled  sob, 

The  tortur'd  bosom's  first-felt  throb, 

The  fervent  vow,  the  broken  gold, 

Their  hapless  hopes  too  truly  told ; 

For,  alas !   till  now  they  never  had  known 

How  deep  and  strong  their  loves  had  grown, 

But  just  as  they  sip  the  full  cup  of  the  heart, 

It  is  dashed  from  the  lip, — and  they  must  part: 

Alas!  they  had  lov'd,  yet  never  before 

The  wealth  of  love  had  counted  o'er, 

And  just  as  they  find  the  treasure  so  great, 

It  is  lost,  it  is  sunk  in  the  billows  of  fate. 

Yea,  it  must  be  with  a  fearful  shock 

That  the  pine  can  be  torn  from  its  root-clasp'd  rock, 


GERALDINE.  371 

Or  the  broad  oak  stump,  as  it  stands  on  the  farm, 

Be  rent  asunder  by  strength  of  arm  ; 

So,  when  the  cords  of  love  are  twin'd 

Among  the  fibres  of  the  mind, 

And  kindred  souls  by  secret  ties 

Mingle  thoughts  and  sympathies, 

O  what  a  wrench  to  tear  in  twain 

Those  that  are  lov'd  and  love  again, 

To  drag  the  magnet  from  its  pole, 

To  chain  the  freedom  of  the  soul, 

To  freeze  in  ice  desires  that  boil, 

To  root  the  mandrake  from  the  soil, 

With  groans,  and  blood,  and  tears,  and  toil ! 

He  is  gone  to  the  land  of  the  holy  war, 
The  sad,  the  brave  young  Amador, 
Not  to  return,  —  by  Leoline's  oath, 
When  all  in  wrath  he  bound  them  both, 
Not  to  return,  —  by  that  last  kiss, 
Till  name,  and  fame,  and  fortune  are  his. 
Aye,  he  is  gone ;  —  and  with  him  went, 
As  into  chosen  banishment, 

The  bloom  of  her  cheek,  and  the  light  of  her  eye, 
And  the  hope  of  her  heart,  so  near  to  die : 
He  is  gone  o'er  Paynim  lands  to  roam, 
But  leaves  his  heart,  his  all,  at  home ; 
And  years  have  glided,  day  by  day, 
To  watch  him  warring  far  away, 
Where,  upon  Gideon's  hallowed  banks, 
His  prowess  hath  scattered  the  Saracen  ranks, 
And  the  Lion-king  with  his  own  right  hand 
Hath  dubb'd  him  knight  of  Holy 'Land: 
The  crescent  wan'd  where'er  he  came, 
And  Christendom  rung  with  his  glorious  fame, 
And  Saladin  trembled  at  the  name 
Of  Amador  de-Ramothaim. 
' 

He  hath  won  him  in  battle  a  goodly  shield 
Three  wild  boars  Or  on  an  azure  field, 


372  GERALDINE. 

While  scallop-shells  three  on  an  argent  fess 
Proclaim  him  a  pilgrim  and  knight  no  less ; 
Enchased  in  gold  on  his  helmet  of  steel 
A  deer-hound  stands  on  the  high-plumed  keel, 
Hafiz,  his  hound,  who  hath  rescued  his  life 
From  the  wily  Assassin's  secret  knife, 
Hafiz,  his  friend,  whom  he  loveth  so  well 
As  the  last  gift  of  Christabel: 
And  over  his  vizor,  and  round  his  arm, 
And  grav'd  on  his  sword  as  a  favorite  charm, 
And  on  his  banner  emblazoned  at  length, 
Love's  motto,  "HOPE  is  ALL  MY  STRENGTH." 


Oh  then  with  how  much  pride  and  joy 
And  hope  which  fear  could  scarce  alloy, 
With  heart  how  leaping,  eye  how  bright, 
And  fair  cheek  flushed  with  deep  delight, 
Heard  Christabel  the  wafted  story 
Of  her  far-off  lover's  glory : 

For  her  inmost  soul  knew  well 
That  he  hoped  and  spake  and  thought 

Only  of  his  Christabel, 
That  he  liv'd  and  lov'd  and  fought 

Only  for  his  Christabel ; 
So  she  felt  his  honor  her's, 

His  welfare  her's,  his  being  her's, 
And  did  jeward  with  rich  largesse 
The  stray  astonish'd  messengers 

Who  brought  her  so  much  happiness. 


Behold!   it  is  past, — that  many  a  year! 
The  harvest  of  her  hope  is  near ; 
Behold !  it  is  come,  —  behold  him  here ! 
Yes,  in  pomp  and  power  and  pride, 
And  joy  and  love  how  true,  how  tried, 
He  comes  to  claim  his  long-lov'd  bride ; 
Her  own  true  knight,  O  bliss  to  tell '. 


GERALDIXE.  373 

Her  Amador  she  loves  so  well 
Returns  for  his  sweet  Christabel ! 

He  leapt  the  moat,  the  portal  past, 
He  flung  him  from  his  horse  in  haste, 

And  in  the  hall 

He  met  her :  —  but  how  pale  and  wan !  — 
He  started  back,  as  she  upon 

His  neck  would  fall : 
He  started  back,  —  for  by  her  side 
(O  blessed  vision ! )  he  espied 

A  thing  divine,  — 

Poor  Christabel  was  lean  and  white, 
But  oh,  how  soft,  and  fair,  and  bright, 

Was  Geraldine ! 

Fairer  and  brighter,  as  he  gazes 
All  celestial  beauty  blazes 

From  those  glorious  eyes, 
And  Amador  no  more  can  brook 
The  jealous  air  and  peevish  look 

That  in  the  other  lies ! 
Alas,  for  wasting  Christabel, 
Alas,  for  stricken  Christabel, 
How  had  she  long'd  to  see  this  day, 
And  now  her  all  is  dash'd  away ! 
How  many  slow  sad  years,  poor  maid, 
Had  she  for  this  day  wept  and  pray'd, 
And  now  the  bitterest  tears  destroy 
That  honied  hope  of  cherish'd  joy, 
For  he  hath  ceas'd,  —  O  withering  thought, 
With  burning  anguish  fully  fraught, 

To  love  his  Christabel! 
Her  full  heart  bursts,  and  she  doth  fall 
Unheeded  in  her  father's  hall, 
And,  oh,  the  heaviest  stroke  of  alii 

By  him  she  loves  so  well. 

O  •  save  her,  Mary  Mother,  save ! 
Let  not  the  damned  sorceress  have 


374  GERALDINE. 

Her  evil  will ; 

O  save  thine  own  sweet  Christabel, 
Thy  saint,  thine  innocent  Christabel, 

And  guard  her  still ! 


CONCLUSION    TO    PART    II. 

FOR  it  doth  mark  a  godlike  mind, 
Prudence,  and  power,  and  truth  combin'd, 
A  rare  self-steering  moral  strength, 
To  over-love  the  dreary  length 
Of  ten  successive  anxious  years, 
Unwarp'd  by  hopes,  untir'd  by  fears ; 
Still,  as  every  teeming  hour, 
Glides  away  in  sun  or  shower, 
Though  the  pilgrim  foot  may  range, 
The  heart  at  home  to  feel  no  change, 
But  to  live  and  linger  on, 
Fond  and  warm  and  true  —  to  one ! 
O  love  like  this,  in  life's  young  spring, 
Is  a  rare  and  precious  thing ; 
A  pledge  that  man  hath  claims  above, 
A  sister-twin  to  martyrs'  love. 
A  shooting-star  of  blessed  light, 
Dropt  upon  the  world's  midnight, 
A  drop  of  sweet,  where  all  beside 
Is  bitterest  gall  in  life's  dull  tide, 
One  faithful  found,  where  all  was  lost, 
An  Abdiel  in  Satan's  host 

To  love,  unshrinking  and  unshaken, 
Albeit  by  all  but  hope  forsaken, 
To  love,  through  slander,  craft,  and  fear, 
And  fairer  faces  smiling  near, 


GERALDINE.  375 

Through  absence,  stirring  scenes  among, 

And  harrowing  silence,  suffering  long, 

Still  to  love  on,  —  and  pray  and  weep 

For  that  dear  one,  while  others  sleep, 

To  dwell  upon  each  precious  word 

Which  the  charm'd  ear  in  whispers  heard, 

To  treasure  up  a  lock  of  hair, 

To  watch  the  heart  with  jealous  care, 

To  live  on  a  remember'd  smile, 

And  still  the  wearisome  day  beguile 

With  rosy  sweet  imaginings, 

And  all  the  soft  and  sunny  things 

Look'd  and  spoken,  ere  they  parted, 

Full  of  hope,  though  broken-hearted, — 

O  there  is  very  virtue  here, 

Retiring,  holy,  deep,  sincere, 

And  self-pois'd  virtue,  working  still 

To  compass  good,  and  combat  ill, 

Which  none  but  worldlings  count  earth-bom 

And  they  who  know  it  not,  can  scorn. 

Ah  yes,  let  common  sinners  jeer, 
And  Mammon's  slaves  suspect  and  sneer, 
While  each  idolater  of  pelf, 
Judging  from  his  gross-hearted  self, 
Counts  Love  no  purer  and  no  higher 
Than  the  low  plot  of  base  desire ;  — 
Let  worldly  craft  nurse  its  false  dreams 
Of  happiness,  from  selfish  schemes 
By  heartless,  hungry  parents  plann'd, 
Of  wedded  fortune,  rank  and  land, — 
There  is  more  wisdom,  and  more  wealth 
More  rank  in  being,  more  soul's  health, 
In  wedded  love  for  one  short  hour, 
Than  endless  wedded  pelf  and  power: 
Yes,  there  is  virtue  in  these  things : 
A  balm  to  heal  the  scorpion-stings 
That  others'  sins  and  sorrows  make 
In  hearts  that  still  can  weep  and  ache ; 


378  GERALDINE. 

There  is  a  heavenly  influence, 
A  secret  spiritual  fence, 
Circling  the  soul  with  present  power 
In  temptation's  darkest  hour, 
Walling  it  round  from  outward  sin, 
While  all  is  soft  and  pure  within. 


GERALDINE.  377 


PART    III. 
(BEING  THE   FIFTH  AND  LAST   OF   CHRISTABEL.) 

HAST  thou  not  seen,  world-weary  man, 
Life's  poor'  pilgrim  white  and  wan,  — 
A  gentle  beauty  for  the  cheek 

Which  nothing  gives  but  sorrow, 
A  sweet  expression,  soft  and  weak, 

Joy  can  never  borrow? 
W.here  lingering  on  the  pale  wet  face 
The  rival  tears  run  their  slow  race 

Each  in ,  its  wonted  furrow  ; 
And  patience,  eloquently  meek, 

From  the  threaten'd  stroke  unshrinking, 
In  mild  boldness  can  but  speak 

The  burden  of  its  sadden'd  thinking,  — 
"  Dreary  as  to-day  has  been, 
And  sad  and  cheerless  yestereen, 

'Twill  dawn  as  dark  to-morrow  ! " 

i 

Desolate-hearted  Christabel, 
Hapless,  hopeless  Christabel,  — 
Nightly  tears  have  dimm'd  the  lustre 

Of  thy  blue  eyes,  once  so  bright, 
And,  as  when  dank  wjllows  cluster 

Weeping  over  marble  rocks, 
O'er  thy  forehead  white 

Droop  thy  flaxen  locks : 
Yet  art  thou  beautiful,  poor  girl, 

As  angels  in  distress, 
Yea,  comforting  the  soul,  sweet  girl, 

With  thy  loveliness ; 


378  GERALDINE. 

*  . 

For  thy  beauty's  light  subdued 

Hath  a  soothing  charm, 
In  sympathy  with  all  things  good 

That  Weep  for  hate  and*  harm  ; 
And  none  can  ever  see  unmov'd 

Thy  poor  wet  face,  with  sorrow  white, 
O  none  have  seen,  who  have  not  lov'd 

The  sadly  sweet  religious  light 
That  doth  witn  pearly  radiance  shine 
From  those  sainted  eyes  of  thine ! 


A  trampling' of  hoofs  at  the  cullice-port, 
A  hundred  horse  in  the  castle-court! 
From  border-wastes,  a  weary  way, 

Through  Halegarth  wood  and  Knorren  moor, 
A  mingled  numerous  array, 
On  panting  palfreys  black  and  grey, 

With  foam  and  mud  bespatter'd  o'er, 
Hastily  cross  the  flooded  Irt, 
And  rich  Waswater's  beauty  skirt, 
And  Sparkling-Tairn,  and  rough  Scathwaite, 
And  now  that  day  is  dropping  late, 
Have  passed  the  drawbridge  and  the  gate. 


By  thy  white  flowing  beard,  and  reverend  mien, 
And  gilded  harp,  and  chaplet  of  green, 
And  milk-white  mare  in  the  castle-yard, 
Welcome,  glad,  welcome  to  Bracy  the  bard ! 
And,  —  by  thy  struggle  still  to  hide 
This  generous  conquest  of  thy  pride, 
More  than  by  yon  princely  train, 

And  blazon'd  banner  standing  near, 
And  snorting  steed  with  slacken'd  rein, 

Hail,  O  too  long  a  stranger  here, 
Hail,  to  Langdale's  friendly  hall, 
Thou  noble  spirit,  most  of  all, 
Roland  de  Vaux  of  Tryermaine ' 


GERALDINE.  379 

r      *  * 

Like  aspens  tall  beside  the  brook 
.The  stalwart  warriors  stood  and  shook, 
And  each  advancing  fear'd  to  look 

Into  the  other's  eye; 
'Tig  fifty  years  ago  to-day 
Since  in  disdain  and  passion  they 
Had  flung  each  other's  love  away 

With  words  of  insult 'high: 
How  had  they  long'd  and  pray'd  to  meet! 
But  memories  cling;  and  pride  is  sweet; 
And  —  which  could  be  the  first  to  greet 

The  haply  scornful  other  ? 
What  if  De  Vaux  were  haughty  still,  — 
Or  Leoline's  unbridled  will 
Consented  not  his  rankling  ill 

In  charity  to  smother  ? 

Their  knees  give  way,  their  faces  are  pale, 
And  loudly  beneath  the  corslets  of  mail 
Their  aged  hearts  in  generous  heat 
Almost  to  bursting  boil  and  beat ; 
The  white  lips  quiver,  the  pulses  throb, 
•  They  stifle  and  swallow  the  rising  sob, — 
And  there  they  stand,  faint  and  unmann'd, 
As  each  holds  forth  his  bare  right  hand ! 
Yes,  the  mail-clad  warriors  tremble, 
All  unable  to  dissemble 
Penitence  and  love  confest,  . 

As  within  each  aching  breast 
The  flood  of  affection  grows  deeper  and  stronger, 
Till  they  can  refrain  no  longer, 
But  with,  —  "  Oh,  my  longrlost  brother ! "  — 
To  their  hearts  they  clasp  each  other, 
Vowing  in  the  face  of  heaven 
All  forgotten  and  forgiven ! 

• 

Then  the  full  luxury  of  grief 
That  brings  the  smothered  soul  relief, 


380  GERALDINE. 

Within  them  both  so  fiercely  rushed 
That  from  their  vanquish'd  eyes  out-gush'd 
A  tide  of  tears,  as  pure  and  deep 
As  children,  yea  as  cherubs  weep  ! 

Quoth  Roland  de  Vaux  to  Sir  Leoline : 
"  No  lady  lost  can  be  daughter  of  mine, 
For  yestereen  at  this  same  hour 
My  Geraldine  sat  in  her  lattic'd  bow'r, 
And  merrily  marvell'd  much  to  hear 
She  had  been  found  in  the  forest  drear : 
Nathless,  of  thee,  old  friend,  to  crave 
Once  more  the  love  I  long  to  have 
Ere  yet  I  drop  into  the  grave, 

Behold  me  here ! 

I  hail'd  the  rich  offer,  and  hither  I  sped, 
Glad  to  reclaim  our  friendship  fled, 
And  see  that  face,  —  e'er  yet  it  be  dead, — 

I  feel  so  dear ; 

And  my  old  heart  danced  with  the  joy  of  a  child, 
When  out  of  school  he  leaps  half  wild, 
To  think  he  could  be  reconcil'd." 

"  Thy  tale  is  strange,"  quoth  Leoline,  . 

"  As  thy  return  is  sweet ; 
Yet  might  it  please  thee,  brother  mine, 

In  knightly  sort  to  greet 
This  wondrous  new-found  Geraldine, 
For  sure  she  is  a  thing  divine, 
So  bright  in  her  doth  beauty  shine 

From  head  to  feet, 
Yea,  sure  she  is  a  thing  divine, 

For  angels  meet" 

O  glorious  in  thy  loveliness ! 
Victorious  in  thy  loveliness ! 
From  what  strong  magnetic  zone, 
Circling  some  strange  world  unknown, 
Hast  thou  stolen  sweet  influence 


GERALDINE.  881 

To  lull  in  blisa  each  ravished  sense? 
That  thine  eyes  rain  light  and  love 
Kindlier  than  the  heavens  above,  — 
That  the  sunshine  of  thy  face 
Shows  richly  ripe  each  winning  grace,— 
That  thine  innocent  laughing  dimple, 
And  thy  tresses  curling  simple, 
Thy  soft  cheek,  and  rounded  arm, 
And  foot  unsandalled,  white  and  warm, 
And  every  sweet  luxurious  charm, 
Fair,  and  full,  and  flush'd,  and  bright, 
Fascinate  the  dazzled  sight, 
As  with  a  halo  of  delight? 

Her  beauty  hath  conquerM:  a  sunny  smile 

Laughs  into  goodness  her  seeming  guile. 

Aye,  was  she  not  in  mercy  sent 

To  heal  the  friendships  pride  had  rent? 

Is  she  not  here,  a  blessed  saint, 

To  work  all  good  by  subtle  feint? 

Yea,  art  thou  not,  mysterious  dame, 

t)ur  Lady  of  Furness?  —  the  same,  the  same! 

O  holy  one,  we  know  thee  now, 

O  gracious  one,  before  thee  bow ; 

Help  Us,  Mary,  hallowed  one, 

Bless  us,  for  thy  wondrous  Son. — 

The  name  was  half  spoken,  the  spell  was  half  broken, 
And  suddenly,  from  his  bent  knee 

Upleapt  each  knight  in  fear, 
All  warily  they  look'd  around, 
Sure,  they  had  heard  a  hissing  sound, 
And  one  quick  moment  on  the  ground 

Had  seen  a  dragon  here ! 
But  now  before  their  wildered  eyes 
Bright  Geraldine,  all  sweet  surprise, 
With  her  fair  hands  in  courteous  guise, 
Had  touch'd  them  both,  and  bade  them  rise; 


382  GERALDINE. 

Alas,  kind  sirs,  she  calmly  said, 

I  am  but  a  poor  hunted  maid, 

Hunted,  ah  me!   and  sore  afraid, 

That  all  too  far  from  home  have  stray'd, 

For  love  of  one  who  flies  and  hates  me, 

For  hate  of  one  who  loves  and  waits  me. 

Wonder  stricken  were  they  then, 
And  full  of  love,  those  ancient  men, 
Full-fired  with  guilty  love,  as  when 

In  times  of  old 

To  young  Susannah's  fairness  knelt 
Those  elders  twain,  and  foully  felt 
The  lava-streams  of  passion  melt 

Their  bosoms  cold : 

They  loved,  —  they  started  from  the  floor,- 
But,  hist !   within  the  chamber-door 
Softly  stole  Sir  Amador :  — 
Nor  look'd,  nor  wondered  as  they  passed 
(Speeding  by  in  shame  and  haste, 
Meekly  thinking  of  each  other 
As  a  weak  and  guilty  brother,) 
For  all  to  him  in  that  dark  room, 
All  the  light  to  pierce  its  gloom, 
All  he  thought  of,  car'd  for,  there, 
Was  that  lov'd  one,  smiling  fair, 
Wondrous  in  her  charms  divine, 
Glad  and  glorious  Geraldine. 

The  eye  of  a  hawk  is  fierce  and  bright 
As  a  facet-cut  diamond  scattering  light, 
Soft  and  rayed  with  invincible  love, 
As  a  ^ure  pearl  is  the  eye  of  a  dove- 
And    o  in  flashes  quick  and  keen 
Loot  J  Amador  on  Geraldine, 
And  so,  in  sweet  subduing  rays, 
On  Amador  did  fondly  gaze, 
In  gentle  pow'r  of  beauty's  blaze, 
Imperial  Geraldine. 


GERALDINE.  383 

His  head  is  cushion'd  on  her  breast, 

Her  dark  eyes  shed  love  on  his, 
And  his  changing  cheek  is  prest 

By  her  hot  and  thrilling  kiss, 
While  again  from  her  moist  lips 
The  honey-dew  of  joy  he  sips, 
And  views,  with  rising  transport  warm, 
Her  half-unveil'd,  bewitching  form.  -— 

A  step  on  the  threshold  !  —  the  chamber  is  dim, 

And  gliding  ghost-like  up  to  him,    ^ 

While  entranced  in  conscious  fear 

He  feels  an  injured  angel  near," 

Sad  Christabel  with  wringing  hands 

Beside  her  faithless  lover  stands, 

Sad  Christabel  with  streaming  eyes 

In  silent  anguish  stands  and  sighs  ; 

Ave,  Maria !   send  her  aid, 

Bless,  oh  bless  the  wretched  maid ! 

It  is  done,  —  he  is  won !  —  stung  with  remorse 

He  hath  dropt  at  her  feet  as  a  clay-cold  corse, 

And  Christabel  with  trembling  dread 

Hath  rais'd  on  her  knee  his  pale,  dear  head, 

And  bath'd  his  brow  with  many  a  tear, 

And  listen'd  for  his  breath  in. fear, 

And  when  she  thought  that  none  was  near 

But  guardian  saints,  and  God  above, 

Set  on  his  lips  the  seal  of  her  love. 

But  Geraldine  had  watch'd  that  kiss, 

And  with  involuntary  hiss, 

And  malice  in  her  snake-like  stare, 

She  gnash'd  her  teeth  on  the  loving  pair, 

And  shed  on  them  both  a  deadly  glare. 

Softly  through  the  sounding  hall,  . 

In  rich  melodious  notes, 
With  many  a  gentle  swell  and  fall, 

Holy  music  floats, 


GERALDINE. 

Like  gossamer  in  a  sultry  sky, 
Dropping  low,  or  sailing  high: 
Bard  Bracy,  bard  Bracy,  that  touch  was  thine  • 

On  Cambria's  harp  with  triple  strings, 
Wild  and  sweet  is  the  hymn  divine, 

Fanning  the  air  like  unseen  wings : 
Thy  hand,  good  Bracy,  thine  alone 
Can  wake  so  sad,  so  sweet  a  tone ; 
Nought  but  the  magic  of  thy  touch 
Can  charm  so  well,  and  cheer  so  much, 
And  wondrously,  with  strong  control, 
Rouse  or  lull  the  passive  soul. 
What  aileth'thee,  O  Geraldine? 
Why  waileth  Lady  Geraldine  ? 
The  body  convuls'd  groweth  lank  and  lean, 
Thy  smooth  white  neck  is  shrivell'd  and  green, 
Thine  eyes  are  blear'd  and  sunk  and  keen, 
O  dreadful!  art  thou  Geraldine?  — 

The  spell  is  dead,  the  charm  is  o'er, 

Writhing  and  coiling  on  the  floor 

Awhile  she  curl'd  in  pain,  and  then  was  seen  no  more. 


CONCLUSION    TO    PART    III 

SWEET  Christabel,  my  Christabel, 
I  have  riven  thy  heart  that  loved  so  well : 
Oh  weak,  O  wicked,  to  rend  in  its  home 
The  love  that  I  'cherish  wherever  I  roam ! 

As  when  with  his  glory  the  morning  sun 
Floods  on  a  sudden  the  tropical  sky, 

And  startled  twilight,  dim  and  dun, 
Flies  from  the  fear  of  his  conquering  eye, 


GERALDINE.  385 

So  flash'd  across  the  lighten'd  breast 

Of  Christabel,  no  more  to  moan, 
A  dawn  of  love,  the  happiest 

Her  maiden  heart  had  ever  known ; 
For  sure  it  was  only  through  powers  of  hell, 
And  evil  eye,  and  potent  spell, 
That  Amador  to  Christabel  « 

Could  faithless  prove, — 
And  when  she  saw  him  kneeling  near, 
Contrite,  yet  more  in  hope  than  fear, 
Oh  then  she  felt  him  doubly  dear, 

Her  rescued  love! 

•    • 

Ave,  Maria!  unto  thee 

All  the  thanks  and  glory  be, 

For  thy  gracious  arm  and  aid 

•Saved  the  youth,  and  blest  the  maid. 

So  falls  it  out,  that  vanquish'd  ill 

Breeds  only  good  to  good  men  still, 

And  while  its  poison  seethes  and  works 

It  yields  a  healing  antidote, 

Which,  whether  mortals  use  or  not, 

Like  a  friend  in  ambush,  lurks 

Deepest  in  the  deadliest  plot    ' 

Not  swift,  though  soon,  next  day  at  noon, 

Just  at  the  wedding  hour, 
As  hand-in-hand  betrothed  they  stand 

Beneath  the  chapel  tower, 
A  holy  light  —  a  vision  bright  — 

'Twas  twelve  o'clock  at  noon, 
A  spirit  good  before  them  stood, 
Her  garments  fair  and  flowing  hair 
Shone  brighter  than-  the  moon. 

And  thus  in  musical  voice  most  sweet, — 
"Daughter,  this  hour  to  grace  and  greet, 
To  bless  this  day  as  is  most  meet, 

Thy  mother  stoops  from  Heaven ! 
.17 


886  GERALDINE. 

And,  ancient  men,  who  all  so  late, 
Have  stopp'd  at  Death's  half-opened  gate, 
In  tears  of  love  to  drown  your  hate, 

Forgiving  and  forgiven, 
Hear,  noble  spirits  reconcil'd, 
Hear,  gracious  souls,  now  meek  and  mild, 
Albeit  with  guilt  so  long  defil'd, 

Love's  lingering  boon  receive ; 
Roland  de  Vaux,  —  thy  long-lost  child, 
Whom  border  troopers,  fierce  and  wild, 
An  infant  from  his  home  beguil'd, 

Thy  soul  to  gall  and  grieve 
In  Amador  — 'behold ! " 

•  The  spirit  said,  and  all  in  light 
Melted  away  .that  vision  bright : 
My  tale  is  told. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


IMAGINATION. 

THOO  fair  enchantress  of  my  willing  heart, 
.Who  charmest  it  to  deep  and  dreary  slumber, 
Gilding  mine  evening  clouds  of  reverie,  — 
Thou  lovely  Siren,  who,  with  still  small  voice 
Most  softly  musical,  dost  lure  me  on 
O'er  the  wide  sea  of  indistinct  idea, 
Or  quaking  sands  of  untried  theory, 
Or  ridgy  shoals  of  fixt  experiment 
That  wind  a  dubious  pathway  through  the  deep,  • 
Imagination,  I  am  thine  own  child ! 
Have  I  not  often  sat  with  thee  retired, 
Alone,  yet  not  alone,  though  grave,  most  glad, 
All  silent  outwardly,  but  loud  within, 
As  from  the  distant  hum  of  many  waters, 
Weaving  the  tissue  of  some  delicate  thought, 
And  hushing  every  breath  that  might  have  rent 
Our  web  of  gossamer,  so  finely  spun  ? 
Have  I  not  often  listed  thy  sweet  song 
(While  in  vague  echoes  and  ^Eolian  notes 
The  chambers  of  my  heart  have  answered  it), 
With  eye  as  bright  in  joy,  and  fluttering  pulse, 
As  the  coy  village  maiden's,  when  her  lover 
Whispers  his  hope  to  her  delighted  ear? 
And,  taught  by  thee,  angelic  visitant 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

Have  I  not  learned  to  love  the  tuneful  lyre, 

Draining  from  every  chord  "its  musical  soul  ? 

Have  I  not  learnt  to  find  in  all  that  is, 

Somewhat  to  touch  the  heart,  or  raise  the  mind, 

Somewhat  of  grand  and  beautiful  to  praise 

Alike  in  small  and  great  things  ?   and  this  power, 

This  clearing  of  the  eye,  this  path  made  straight  . 

Even  to  the  heart's  own  heart,  its  innermost  core, 

This  keenness  to  perceive,  and  seek  and  find, 

And  love  and  prize  all-present  harmony, 

This,  more  than  choosing  words  to  clothe  the  thought, 

Makes  the  true  poet;  this  thy  glorious  gift, 

Imagination,  rescues  me  thy  son, 

(Thy  son,  albeit  least  worthy,)  from  the  lust  • 

Of  mammon,  and  the  cares  of  animal  life, 

And  the  dull  thraldom  of  this  work-day  world. 

Indulgent  lover,  I  am  all  thine  own ; 

What  art  thou  not  to  me?  —  ah,  little  know 

The  worshippers  of  cold  reality, 

The  grosser  minds,  who  most  sincerely  think 

That  sense  is  the  broad  avenue  to  bliss,  v 

Little  know  they  the  thrilling  ecstasy, 

The  delicate  refinement  in  delight, 

That  cheers  the  thoughtful  spirit,  as  it  soars 

Far  above  all  these  petty  things  of  life; 

And  strengthened  by  the  flight  and  cordial  joys, 

Can  then  come  down  to  earth  and  common  men 

Better  in  motive,  stronger  in  resolve, 

Apter  to  use  all  means  that  compass  good, 

And  of  more  charitable  mind  to  all. 

Imagination,  art  thou  not  my  friend 

In  crowds  and  solitude,  my  comrade  dear, 

Brother,  and  sister,  mine  own  other  self, 

The  Hector  to  my  soul's  Andromache  ? 

Triumphant  beauty,  bright  intelligence! 

The  chastened  fire  of  ecstasy  suppressed 

Beams  from  thine  eye;  because  thy  secret  heart, 

Like  that  strange  sight  burning  yet  unconsumed, 


IMAGINATION.  391 

Is  all  on  flame,  a  censer  filled  with  odors, 

And  to  my  mind,  who  feel  thy  fearful  power, 

Suggesting  passive  terrors  and  delights, 

A  slumbering  volcano :   thy  dark  cheek, 

Warm  and  transparent,  by  its  half-form'd  dimple 

Reveals  an  under-world  of  wondrous  things 

Ripe  in  their  richness,  —  as  among  the  bays 

Of  blest  Bermuda,  through  the  sapphire  deep, 

Ruddy  and  white  fantastically  branch 

The  coral  groves  ;   thy  broad  and  sunny  brow, 

Made  fertile  by  the  genial  smile  of  heaven, 

Shoots  up  an  hundred-fold  the  glorious  crop 

Of  arabesque  ideas ;   forth  from  thy  curls, 

Half  hidden  in  their  black  luxuriance, 

The  twining  sister-graces  lightly  spring, 

The  muses,  and  the  passions,  and  young  love, 

Tritons  and  Naiads,  Pegasus,  and  Sphinx, 

Atlas,  Briareus,    Paaeton,  and  Cyclops, 

Centaurs,  and  shapes  uncouth,  and  wild  conceits: 

And  in  the  midst  blazes  the  star  of  mind, 

Illumining  the  classic  portico 

That  leads  to  the  high  dome  where  Learning  sits : 

On  either  side  of  that  broad  sunny  brow 

Flame-colorjd  pinions,  streak'd  with  gold  and  blue, 

Burst  from  the  teeming  brain;   while  under  them 

The  forked  lightning,  and  the  cloud-rob'd  thunder, 

And  fearful  shadows,  and  unhallow'd  eyes, 

And  strange  foreboding  forms  of  terrible  things, 

Lurk  in  the  midnight  of  thy  raven  locks. 

And  thou  hast  been  the  sunshine  to  my  landscape, 

Imagination ;   thou  hast  wreathed  me  smiles, 

And  hung  them  on  a  statue's  marble  lips ; 

Hast  made  earth's  dullest  pebbles  bright  like  gems : 

Hast  lent  me  thine  own  silken  clue,  to  rove 

The  ideal  labyrinths  of  a  thousand  spheres  ; 

Hast  lengthen'd  out  my  nights  with  life-long  dreams, 

And  with  glad  seeming  gilt  my  darkest  day ; 

Helped  me  to  scale  in  thought  the  walls  of  heaven, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

While  journeying  wearily  this  busy  world; 

Sent  me  to  pierce  the  palpable  clouds  with  eagles, 

And  with  leviathan  the  silent  deep ; 

Hast  taught  my  youthful  spirit  to  expand 

Beyond  himself,  and  live  in  other  scenes, 

And  other  times,  and  among  other  men ; 

Hast  bid  me  cherish,  silent  and  alone, 

First  feelings,  and  young  hopes,  and  better  aims, 

And  sensibilities  of  delicate  sort. 

Like  timorous  mimosas,  which  the  breath, 

The  cold  and  cautious  breath  of  daily  life, 

Hath  not  as  yet  had  power  to  blight  and  kill 

From  my  heart's  garden ;   for  they  stand  retired, 

Screen'd  from  the  north  by  groves  of  rooted  thought. 

Without  thine  aid,  how  cheerless  were  all  time, 

But  chief  the  short  sweet  hours  of  earliest  love ; 

When  the  young  mind,  athirst  for  happiness, 

And  all-exulting  in  that  new-found  treasure, 

The  wealth  of  being  loved,  as  well  as  loving, 

Sees  not,  and  hears  not,  knows  not,  thinks  not,  speaks  not, 

Except  it  be  of  her,  his  one  desire ; 

And  thy  rose-color'd  glass  on  every  scene 

With  more  than  earthly  promise  cheats  the  eye, 

While  the  charm'd  ear  drinks  thy  melodious  words, 

And  the  heart  reels,  drunk  with  ideal  beauty. 

So  too  the  memory  cf  departed  joy,  ' 

Walking  in  black  with  sprinkled  tears  of  pearl, 

Passes  before  the  mind  with  look  less  stern 

And  foot  more  lighten'd,  when  thine  inward  power, 

Most  gentle  friend,  upon  that  clouded  face 

Sheds  the  fair  light  of  better  joys  to  come, 

And  throws  round  Grief  the  azure  scarf  of  Hope. 

As  the  wild  chamois  bounds  from  rock  to  rock, 
Oft  on  the  granite  steeples  nicely  poised, 
Unconscious  that  the  cliiT  from  which  he  hangs 
Was  once  a  fiery  sea  of  molten  stone, 
Shot  up  ten  thousand  feet  and  crystallized, 


THE  SONG  OF  AN  ALPINE  ELF.  391 

When  earth  was  laboring  with  her  kraken  brood; 
So  have  I  sped  with  thee,  my  bright-eyed  love, 
Imagination,  over  pathless  wilds, 
Bounding  from  thought  to  thought,  unmindful  of 
The  fever  of  my  soul  that  shot  them  up 
And  made  a  ready  footing  for  my  speed, 
As  like  the  whirlwind  I  have  flown  along, 
Winged  with  ecstatic  mind,  and  carried  away 
Lake  Ganymede  of  old,  o'er  cloud-capt  Ida, 
Or  Alps,  or  Andes,  or  the  ice-bound  shores 
Of  Arctic  or  Antarctic,  —  stolen  from  earth 
Her  sister-planets  and  the  twinkling  evea 
That  watched  her  from  afar,  to  the  oare  seat 
Of  rarest  Matter's  last  created  world, 
And  brilliant  halls  of  self-existing  Light* 


THE    SONG    OF    AN    ALPINE    ELF. 

HA,  ha,  ha!  —  My  coy  Jungfra 

Is  tall  and  robed  in  snow, 
Yet  at  a  leap  to  the  cloudy  steep 

I  bound  from  the  glen  below ; 
On  her  dizziest  peak  I  sit  and  shriek 

To  the  winds  that  around  me  blow, 
And  heard  from  afar  is  my  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

The  wild  laugh  echoes  so. 

In  the  forest  dun  round  Lauterbrunn, 

That  line  each  dark  ravine, 
I  hide  me  away  from  the  garish  day 

Till  the  howling  winter's  e'en; 
Then  I  jump  on  high  through  the  coal-black  sky, 

And  light  on  some  cliff"  of  snow 
That  nods  to  its  fall  like  a  tottering  wal., 

And  I  rock  it  to  and  fro ! 
.  17* 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

My  summer's  home  is  the  cataract's  foam, 

As  it  floats  in  a  frothing  heap ; 
My  winter's  rest  is  the  weasel's  nest, 

Or  deep  with  the  mole  I  sleep: 
I  ride  for  a  freak  on  the  lightning-streak, 

And  mingle  among  the  clouds, 
My  swarthy  form  with  the  thunder-storm, 

Wrapped  in  its  sable  shrouds. 

Often  I  launch  the  huge  avalanche, 

And  make  it  my  milk-white  sledge, 
When,  unappall'd,  to  the  Grindelwald 

I  slide  from  the  Shrikehorn's  edge : 
Silent  and  soft  to  the  ibex  oft 

I  have  stolen,  and  hurried  him  o'er 
The  precipice  to  the  bristling  ice 

That  smokes  with  his  scarlet  gore. 

But  my  greatest  joy  is  to  lure  and  decoy 

To  the  chasm's  slippery  brink 
The  hunter  bold,  when  he's  weary  and  old, 

And  there  let  him  suddenly  sink, — 
A  thousand  feet  —  dead!  —  he  dropp'd  like  lead, 

Ha,  he  couldn't  leap  like  me ; 
With  broken  back,  as  a  felon  on  rack, 

He  hangs  in  a  split  pine-tree. 

And  there  'mid  his  bones,  that  echoed  with  groans . 

I  make  me  a  nest  of  his  hair ; 
The  ribs  dry  and  white  rattle  loud  as  in  spite, 

When  I  rock  in  my  cradle  there: 
Hurrah,  hurrah,  and  ha,  ha,  ha ! 

I'm  in  a  merry  mood, 
For  I'm  all  alone  in  my  palace  of  bone, 
That's  tapestried  fair  with  the  old  man's  hair, 

And  dappled  with  clots  of  blood: 
And  when  I  look  out  all  around  and  about, 
The  storm  shouts  high  to  the  coal-black  sky, 


DREAMS.  895 

And  the  icicle  sleet  falls  thick  and  fleet, 
And  all  that  I  hear  on  the  mountain  drear, 
And  all  I  behold  in  the  valleys  cold, 
Is  death  and  solitude. 


DREAMS. 

A  DREAM  —  mysterious  word,  a  dream ! 

What  joys  arid  sorrows  are  enshrin'd 
In  those  still  hours  we  fondly  deem 

A  play-time  for  the  truant  mind: 

It  is  a  happy  thing  to  dream, 

When  rosy  thoughts  and  visions  bright 
Pour  on  the  soul  a  golden  stream 

Of  rich  luxurious  delight : 

It  is  a  weary  thing  to  dream, 

When  from  the  hot  and  aching  brain, 

As  from  a  boiling  cauldron,  steam 
The  myriad  forms  in  fancy's  train. 

It  is  a  curious  thing  to  dream, 

When  shapes  grotesque  of  all  quaint  things, 
Like  laughing  water-witches  seem 

To  sport  in  reason's  turbid  springs: 

It  is  a  glorious  thing  to  dream, 

When  full  of  wings  and  full  of  eyes, 

Borne  on  the  whirlwind  or  sunbeam, 
We  race  along  the  startled  skies: 

It  is  a  wondrous  thing  to  dream 
Of  tumbling  with  a  fearful  shock 

From  some  tall  cliff  where  eagles  scream, 
—  To  light  upon  a  feather  rock: 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  dream 

Of  strangled  throats  and  heart-blood  spilt, 
And  ghosts  that  in  the  darkness  gleam, 

And  horrid  eyes  of  midnight  guilt. 

I  love  a  dream,  I  dread  a  dream, 

Sometimes  all  bright  and  full  of  gladness, 

But  other  times  my  brain  will  teem 

With  sights  that  urge  the  mind  to  madness. 


INFANT    CHRIST,    WITH    A    WREATH 
OF    FLOWERS. 

FROM   A    PICTURE    BY    CORREGGIO. 

YES,  —  I  can  fancy,  in  the  spring 

Of  childhood's  sunny  hours, 
That  nature's  infant,  priest,  and  king, 

Lov'd  to  gaze  on  flowers: 

For  lightly,  'mid  the  wreck  of  all. 

When  torn  from  Eden's  bowera, 
Above  the  billows  of  the  fall 

Floated  gentle  flowers. 

Unfallen,  sinless,  undefil'd, 

Fresh  bath'd  in  summer  showers. 

What  wonder  that  the  holy  child 
Lov'd  to  play  with  flowers  ? 

In  these  he  saw  his  Father's  face, 

All  Godhead's  varied  powers, 
And  joy'd  each  attribute  to  trace 

In  sweet  unconscious  flowers: 


PAST,    PIlESENT,    AND    FUTURE.  397 

In  these  he  found  where  Wisdom  hides, 

And  modest  Beauty  cowers, 
And  where  Omnipotence  resides, 

And  Tenderness,  —  in  flowers. 

Innocent  child,  a  little  while, 

Ere  yet  the  tempest  lowers, 
Bask  thy  young  heart  in  Nature's  smiia 

Her  lovely  smile  of  flowers ; 

Thy  young  heart,  —  is  it  not  array'd 

In  feelings  such  as  ours  ?  — 
Yes,  being  now  of  thorns  afraid, 

I  see  thee  crown'd  with  flowers. 


PAST,    PRESENT,    AND    FUTURE 

A  SAD,  sweet  gladness,  full  of  tears 
And  thoughts,  that  never  cloy, 

Of  careless  childhood's  happier  years, 
Is  memory's  tranquil  joy. 

A  rapturous  and  delusive  dream 

Of  pleasures,  ne'er  to  be, 
That  o'er  life's  troubled  waters  gleam, 

Is  Hope's  sweet  reverie. 

Yet,  before  Memory  can  look  back, 

When  Hope  is  lost  in  sight, 
Ah !   where  is  Memory's  fairy  track, 

Ah!   where  is  Hope's  delight? 

The  present  is  a  weary  scene, 

And  always  wish'd  away  • 
We  live  on  "  to  be,"  and  ••  has  oeeu " 

But  never  on  "to-day." 


398  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


WHICP     BLOSSOMED,    AFTER    HAVING   LAIN     FOR    AGES    IN    THE    HAND 
OF    AN    EGYPTIAN    MUMMY. 

WHAT,  wide  awake,  sweet  stranger,  wide  awake  ? 
And  laughing  coyly  at  an  English  sun, 
And  blessing  him  with  smiles  for  having  thawed 
Thine  icy  chain,  for  having  woke  thee  gently 
From  thy  long  slumber  of  three  thousand  years  ? 
Methinks  I  see  the  eye  of  wonder  peering 
From  thy  tall  pistil,  looking  strangely  forth 
As  from  a  watch-tow'r  at  thy  fellow-flowers, 
Admiring  much  the  rich  variety 
Of  many  a  gem  in  nature's  jewel-case 
Unknown  to  thee,  —  the  drooping  hyacinth, 
The  prim  ranunculus,  and  gay  geranium, 
And  dahlias  rare,  and  hearts-ease  of  all  hues, 
Mealy  auriculas,  and  spotted  lilies, 
Gaudy  carnations,  and  the  modest  face 
Of  the  moss  rose :   methinks  thy  wondering  leaves 
And  curious  petals  at  the  long-lost  sun 
Gaze  with  a  lingering  love,  bedizen'd  o'er 
With  a  small  firmament  of  eyes  to  catch 
The  luxury  of  his  smile;   as  o'er  the  pool, 
Hovering  midway,  the  gorgeous  dragon-fly 
Watches  his  mates  with  thousand-facet  vision ; 
Or  as  when  underneath  the  waterfall, 
Floating  in  sunny  wreaths,  the  fretted  foam 
Mirrors  blue  heaven  in  its  million  orbs. 
Methinks  I  see  thy  fair  and  foreign  face 
Blush  with  the  glowing  ardor  of  first  love, 
(Mindful  of  ancient  Nile,  and  those  warm  skies, 
And  tender  tales  of  insect  coquetry,) 
When  some  bright  butterfly  descends  to  sip 
The  exotic  fragrance  of  thy  nectarous  dew ; 
Even  so,  Jabal's  daughters  in  old  time 


ON    A    BULBOUS    ROOT.  899 

Welcomed  the  sons  of  (rod,  who  sprang  from  heaven 
To  gaze  with  rapture  on  earth's  fairest  creatures, 
And  fan  them  with  their  rainbow-colored  wings. 

Didst  ever  dream  of  such  a  day  as  this, 
A  day  of  life  and  sunshine,  when  entranced 
In  the  cold  tomb  of  yonder  shrivelled  hand  ? 
Didst  ever  try  to  shoot  thy  fibres  forth 
Through  thy  close  prison-bars,  those  parchment  fingers, 
And  strive  to  blossom  in  a  charnel  house  ? 
Didst  ever  struggle  to  be  free,  —  to  leap 
From  that  forced  wedlock  with  a  clammy  corpse,  — 
To  burst  thy  bonds  asunder,  and  spring  up, 
A  thing  of  light,  to  commerce  with  the  skies  ? 
•Or  didst  thou  rather,  with  endurance  strong, 
(That  might  have  taught  a  Newton  passive  power,) 
Baffle  corruption,  and  live  on  unharmed 
Amid  the  pestilent  steams  that  wrapped  thee  round, 
Like  Mithradates,  when  he  WOULD  not  die, 
But  conquered  poison  by  his  strong  resolve  ? 

O  life,  thy  name  is  mystery,  —  that  couldst 
Thus  energize  inert,  be,  yet  not  be, 
Concentrating  thy  powers  in  one  small  point; 
Couldst  mail  a  germ,  in  seeming  weakness  strong, 
And  arm  it  as  thy  champion  against  Death ; 
Couldst  give  a  weed,  dug  from  the  common  field, 
What  Egypt  hath  not,  Immortality ; 
Couldst  lull  it  off  to  sleep  ere  Carthage  was, 
And  wake  it  up  when  Carthage  is  no  more ! 
It  may  be,  suns  and  stars  that  walked  the  heavens, 
While  thou  wert  in  thy  slumber,  gentle  flower, 
Have  sprung  from  chaos,  blazed  their  age,  and  burse 
It  may  be,  that  thou  seest  the  world  worn  out, 
And  look'st  on  meadows  of'a  paler  green, 
Flowers  of  a  duskier  hue,  and  all  creation, 
Down  to  degenerate  man,  more  and  more  dead, 
Than  in  those  golden  hours,  nearest  to  Eden, 
When  mother  Earth  and  thou  and  all  were  younjr 


400  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

And  he  that  held  thee,  —  this  bituminous  shape, 
This  fossil  shell  once  tenanted  by  life, 
This  chrysalis  husk  of  the  poor  insect  man, 
This  leathern  coat,  this  carcase  of  a  soul,  — 
What  was  thy  story,  O  mine  elder  brother? 
I  note  thee  now,  swathed  like  a  Milanese  babe, 
But  thine  are  tinctur'd  grave-clothes,  fathoms  long: 
On  thy  shrunk  breast  the  mystic  beetle  lies, 
Commending  thee  to  Earth,  and  to  the  Sun 
Regenerating  all ;   a  curious  scroll, 
•  Full  of  strange  written  lore,  rests  at  thy  side; 
While  a  quaint  rosary  of  bestial  gods, 
Ainmon,  Bubastes,  Thoth,  Osiris,  Apis, 
And  Horus  with  the  curl,  Typhon  and  Phthah, 
Amulets  ciphered  with  forgotten  tongues,  . 

And  charmed  religious  beads,  circle  thy  tnroat. 
Greatly  thy  children  honored  thee  in  death, 
And  for  the  light  vouchsafed  them  they  did  well, — 
In  that  they  hoped,  and  not  unwisely  hoped, 
Again  in  his  own  flesh  to  see  their  sire ; 
And  their  affection  spared  not,  so  the  form 
They  loved  in  life  might  rest  adorned  in  death. 
*  • 

But  this  dry  hand,  —  was  it  once  terrible, 
When  among  warrior  bands  thou  wentest  forth 
With  Ramses,  or  Sesostris,  yet  again 
To  crush  the  rebel  Ethiop  ?  —  wast  thou  set 
A  taskmaster  to  toiling  Israel, 
When  Cheops  or  Cephrenes  raised  to  heaven 
Their  giant  sepulchres? — or  did  this  hand, 
That  lately  held  a  flower,  with  murderous  grasp 
Tear  from  the  Hebrew  mother  her  poor  babe, 
To  fling  it  to  the  crocodile  ?  —  or  rather 
Wert  thou  some  garden-lover,  and  this  bulb 
Perchance  most  rare  and  fine,  prized  above  gold, 
(As  in  the  mad  world's  dotage  yesterday 
A  tulip  root  could  fetch  a  prince's  ransom,)  — 
Was  to  be  buried  with  thee,  as  thy  praise, 
Thy  Rosicrucian  lamp,  thine  idol  weed  F  — 


CRUELTY.  401 

Perchance,  O  kinder  thought  and  better  hope, 

Some  priest  of  Isis  shrined  this  root  with  thee 

As  nature's  hyeroglyphic,  her  half-guess 

Of  glimmering  faith,  that  soul  will  never  die . 

What  emblem  liker,  or  more  eloquent 

Of  immortality,  whether  the  Sphinx, 

Scarab,  or  circled  snake,  or  wide-winged  orb, 

The  azure-colored  arch,  the  sleepless  eye, 

The  pyramid  four-square,  or  flowing  river, 

Or  all  whatever  else  were  symbols  apt 

In  Egypt's  alphabet,  —  as  thou,  dry  root, 

So  full  of  living  promise?  —  yes,  I  see 

Nature's  "resurgam"  sculptured  there  in  words 

That  all  of  every  clime  may  run  and  read : 

I  see  the  better  hope  of  better  times, 

Hope  against  hope,  wrapped  in  the  dusky  coats 

Of  a  poor  leek,  —  I  note  glad  tidings  there 

Of  happier  things :  this  undecaying  corpse  - 

A  little  longer,  yet  a  little  longer 

Must  slumber  on,  but  shall  awake  at  last ; 

A  little  longer,  yet  a  little  longer,  — 

And  at  the  trumpet's  voice,  shall  this  dry  shape 

Start  up,  instinct  with  life,  the  same  though  changed, 

And  put  on  incorruption's  glorious  garb : 

Perchance  for  second  death,  —  perchance  to  shine, 

If  aught  of  Israel's  God  he  knew  and  lov'd, 

Brighter  than  seraphs,  and  beyond  the  sun. 


CRUELTY. 

WILI.  none  befriend  that  poor  dumb  brute, 

Will  no  man  rescue  him  ?  — 
With  weaker  effort,  gasping,  mute, 

He  strains  in  every  limb ;  ^ 


402  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

Spare  him,  O  spare:  —  he  feels,  — he  feels 

Big  tears  roll  from  his  eyes ; 
Another  crushing  blow!  —  he  reels, 

Staggers,  —  and  falls,  —  and  dies. 

Poor  jaded  horse,  the  blood  runs  cold 

Thy  guiltless  wrongs  to  see ; 
To  heav'n,  O  starv'd  one,  lame  and  old, 

Thy  dim  eye  pleads  for  thee. 

Thon  too,  O  dog,  whose  faithful  zeal 

Fawns  on  some  ruffian  grim, 
He  stripes  thy  skin  with  many  a  weal, 

And  yet,  —  thou  lovest  him. 

Shame !  that  of  all  the  living  chain 

That  links  creation's  plan, 
There  is  but  one  delights  in  pain,  — 

The  savage  monarch,  —  man  ! 

O  cruelty,  —  who  could  rehearse 

Thy  million  dismal  deeds, 
Or  track  the  workings  of  the  curse 

By  which  all  nature  bleeds  ? 

Thou  meanest  crime,  —  thou  coward  sin, 
Thou  base,  flint-hearted  vice, — 

Scorpion  !  —  to  sting  thy  heart  within 
Thyself  shalt  all  sufiice ; 

The  merciless  is  doubly  curst, 

As  mercy  is  "twice  blest;" 
Vengeance,  though  slow,  shall  come,  —  but  first 

The  vengeance  of  the  breast. 

Why  add  another  woe  to  life, 

Man,  —  are  there  not  enough  ? 
Why  lay  thy  weapon  to  the  strife  ? 

Why  make  the  road  more  rough  ? 


CRUELTY.  408 

Faint,  hunger-sick,  old,  blind,  and  ill, 

The  poor,  or  man  or  beast, 
Can  battle  on  with  life  uphill, 

And  bear  its  griefs  at  least ; 

Truly,  their  cup  of  gall  o'erflows! 

But,  when  the  spite  of  men 
Adds  poison  to  the  draught  of  woes, 

Who,  who  can  drink  it  then  ? 

Heard  ye  that  shriek? — O  wretch,  forbear, 

Fling  down  thy  bloody  knife: 
In  fear,  if  not  in  pity,  spare 

A  woman,  and  a  wife! 

For  thee  she  toils,  unchiding,  mild, 

And  for  thy  children  wan, 
Beaten,  and  starv'd,  —  with  famine  wild,  - 

To  feast  thee,  selfish  man: 

Husband  and  father,  drunkard,  fiend' 

Thy  wife's,  thy  children's  moan 
Has  won  for  innocence  a  friend, 

Has  reach'd  thy  Judge's  throne:' 

Their  lives  thou  madest  sad;  but  worse 

Thy  deathless  doom  shall  be ; 
"No  MERCY,"  is  the  withering  curse 

Thy  Judge  has  passed  on  thee* 

Heap  on,  heap  on,  —  fresh  torments  add, — 

New  schemes  of  torture  plan  • 
No  MERCY  :  Mercy's  self  is  glad 

To  damn  the  cruel  man. 

God !  God !  thy  whole  creation  groans, 

Thy  fair  world  writhes  in  pain ; 
Shall  the  dread  incense  of  its  moans 

Arise  to  Thee  in  vain? 


404  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

The  hollow  eye  of  famine  pleads, 
The  face  with  weeping  pale, 

The  heart  that  all  in  secret  bleeds, 
The  grief  that  tells  no  tale, 

Oppression's  victim,  weak  and  mild, 
Scarce  shrinking  from  the  blov-, 

And  the  poor  wearied  factory  child, 
Join  in  the  dirge  of  woe. 

O  cruel  world !  O  sickening  fear 
Of  goad,  or  knife,  or  thong; 

O  load  of  evils  ill  to  bear! 
—  How  long,  good  God,  how  long  ? 


CHILDREN. 

HARMLESS,  happy  little  treasures, 
Full  of  truth,  and  trust,  and  mirth, 

Richest  wealth,  and  purest  pleasures, 
In  this  mean  and  guilty  earth. 

How  I  love  you,  pretty  creatures, 
Lamb-like  flock  of  little  things, 

Where  the  love  that  lights  your  features 
From  the  heart  in  beauty  springs: 

On  these  laughing  rosy  faces 
There  are  no  deep  lines  of  sin, 

None  of  passion's  dreary  traces 
That  betray  the  wounds  within; 

But  yours  is  the  sunny  dimple 
Radiant  with  untutor'd  smiles, 

Yours  the  heart,  sincere  and  simple, 
Innocent  of  selfish  wiles ; 


CHILDREN.  .  406 

Yours  the  natural  curling  tresses, 

Prattling  tongues,  and  shyness  coy, 
Tottering  steps,  and  kind  caresses, 

Pure  with  health,  and  warm  with  joy. 

The  dull  slaves  of  gain,  or  passion, 

Cannot  love  you  as  they  should ; 
The  poor  worldly  fools  of  fashion 

Would  not  love  you  if  they  could. 

Write  them  childless,  those  cold-hearted, 

Who  can  scorn  Thy  generous  boon, 
And  whose  souls  with  fear  have  smarted, 

Lest  —  Thy  blessings  come  too  soon. 

While  he  hath  a  child  to  love  him, 

No  man  can  be  poor  indeed  ; 
While  he  trusts  a  Friend  above  him, 

None  can  sorrow,  fear,  or  need. 

But  for  thee,  whose  heart  is  lonely, 

And  unwarm'd  by  children's  mirth, 
Spite  of  riches,  thou  art  only 

Desolate  and  poor  on  earth. 

All  unkiss'd  by  innocent  beauty, 

All  unlov'd  by  guileless  heart, 
AH  uncheer'd  by  sweetest  duty, 

Childless  man,  how  poor  thou  art! 


409  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

SONNET    TO    MY    BOOK, 

"  PROVERBIAL    PHILOSOPHY  J  "    BEFORE    PUBLICATION. 

Mr  soul's  own  son,  dear  image  of  my  mind, 
I  would  not  without  blessing  send  thee  forth 

Into  the  bleak  wide  world,  whose  voice  unkind 
Perchance  will  mock  at  thee  as  nothing  worth; 

For  the  cold  critic's  jealous  eye  may  find 
In  all  thy  purposed  good  little  but  ill, 
May  taunt  thy  simple  garb  as  qnaintly  wrought, 

And  praise  thee  for  no  more  than  the  small  skill 
Of  masqueing  as  thine  own  another's  thought : 
What  then?  count  envious  sneers  as  less  than  nought: 

Fair  is  thine  aim,  and  having  done  thy  best, 

Lo,  thus  I  bless  thee ;  yea,  thou  shall  be  blest ! 


TO    THE     SAME: 

AFTER    PUBLICATION. 

THAT  they  have  praised  thee  well,  and  cheered  thee  on 

With  kinder  tones  than  critics  deign  to  few, 
Child  of  my  thoughts,  my  fancy's  favorite  son, 

Our  courteous  thanks,  our  heartfelt  thanks  are  due. 

Despise  not  thou  thine  equal's  honest  praise ; 
Yet  feast  not  of  such  dainties ;  thou  shall  rue 
Their  sweetness  else  ;  let  rather  generous  pride 
Those  golden  apples  straightly  spurn  aside, 

And  gird  thee  all  unshackled  to  the  race : 
On  to  the  goal  of  honor,  fair  beginner, 
A  thousand  ducats  thou  shall  yet  be  winner! 


SONNET  —  MONSIEUR   D'ALVERNON.  407 


SONNET, 

OTT  THE   PUBLICATION   OF   THE    SECOND   EDITION   OF   MT 
"PROVERBIAL  PHILOSOPHY." 

YET  once  again,  not  after  many  days 

Since  first* I  dared  this  voyage  in  the  dark, 
Borne  on  the  prosperous  gale  of  good  men's  praise, 

To  the  wide  waters  I  commit  mine  ark, 
And  bid  God  speed  thy  venture,  gallant  bark ! 

For  I  have  launched  thee  on  a  thousand  prayers, 
Freighted  thee  well  with  all  my  mind  and  heart, 

And  if  some  contraband  error  unawares, 
Like  Achan's  wedge,  lie  hid  in  any  part, 
Stand  it  condemned,  as  it  most  justly  ought ; 
Yet  be  the  thinker  spared,  if  not  his  thought ; 
For  he  that  with  an  honest  purpose  errs, 
Merits  more  kind  excuse  than  the  shrewd  world  confers 


MONSIEUR    D'ALVERNON. 

AN    INCIDENT    FOUNDED    ON   FACT. 

POOR  Monsieur  D'Alvernon !   I  well  remember 

The  day  I  visited  his  ruinous  cot, 

And  heard  the  story  of  his  fallen  fortunes. 

It  was  a  fine  May  morning,  and  the  flowers 

Spread  their  fair  faces  to  the  laughing  sun. 

And  look'd  like  small  terrestrial  stars,  that  ueam'd 

With  life  and  joy ;   the  merry  lark  was  high 

Careering  in  the  heavens,  and  now  and  then 

A  throstle  from  the  neighboring  thicket  pour'd 

His  musical  and  hearty  orisons. 

The  cot  too  truly  told  that  povertv 


408  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Found  it  a  home  with  misery  and  scorn 

No  clambering  jessamine,  no  well-train'd  roses 

There  linger'd,  like  sweet  charity,  to  hide 

The  rents  unseemly  of  the  plaster'd  wall: 

No  tight-trimtn'd  rows  of  box,  or  daisy  prim, 

Mark'd  a  clean  pathway  through  the  miry  clay, 

But  all  around  was  want  and  cold  neglect 

With  curious  hand  (and  heart  that  beat  with  warm 

Benevolence)  I  knock'd,  lifted  the  latch, 

And  in  the  language  of  his  mother-land 

Besought  a  welcome ;   quick  with  courteous  phrase, 

And  joy  unfeign'd  to  hear  his  native  tongue, 

He  bade  me  enter. — 'Twas  a  ruined  hovel; 

Disease  and  penury  had  done  their  worst 

To  load  a  wretched  exile  with  despair, 

But  still  with  spirit  unbroken  he  lived  on, 

And,  with  a  Frenchman's  national  levity, 

Bounded  elastic  from  his  weight  of  woes. 

I  listed  long  his  fond  garrulity, 

For  sympathy  and  confidence  are  aye 

Each  other  echoes,  and  I  won  his  heart 

By  pitying  his  sorrows;   long  he  told 

Of  friends,  and  wife,  and  darling  little  ones, 

Fortunes,  and  titles,  and  long-cherish'd  hopes 

By  frenzied  Revolution  marr'd  and  crush'd  ; 

But  oft  my  patience  flicker'd,  and  my  eye 

Wander'd  inquisitive  round  the  murky  room, 

To  see  wherein  I  best  might  mitigate 

The  misery  my  bosom  bled  to  view. 

I  sat  upon  his  crazy  couch,  and  there, 

With  many  sordid  rags,  a  roebuck's  skin 

Show'd  sleek  and  mottled;   swift,  the  clear  gray  eye 

Of  the  poor  sufferer  had  tnark'd  my  wonder, 

And  as  in  simple  guise  this  touching  tale 

He  told  me,  in  the  tongue  my  youth  had  lov'd, 

Many  a  tear  stole  down  his  wrinkled  cheek. 

"  Yon  glossy  skin  is  all  that'  now  remains 
To  tell  me  that  the  past  is  not  a  dream! 


WISDOM'S    WISH.  409 

Oft  up  my  Chateau's  avenue  of  limeg, 

To  be  caress'd  in  mine  ancestral  hall, 

Poor  '•Louis''  bounded  —  (I  had  call'd  him  Louis 

Because  I  lov'd  my  King); — my  little  ones 

Have  on  his  forked  antlers  often  hung 

Their  garlands  of  spring  flowers,  and  fed  nim  with 

Sweet  heads  of  clover  from  their  tiny  hands. 

But  on  a  sorrowful  day  a  random  shot 

Of  some  bold  thief,  or  well-skill'd  forester, 

Struck  him  to  death,  and  many  a  tear  and  sob 

Were  the  unwritten  epitaph  upon  him ; 

For  children  would  not  lose  him  utterly, 

But  prayed  to  have  his  mottled  beautiful  skin 

A  rug  to  their  new  pony-chaise,  that  they 

Might  oftener  think  of  their  lost  favorite. 

Aye,  there  it  is! — that  precious  treasury 

Of  fond  remembrances  —  that  glossy  skin ! 

O  thou  chief  solace  in  the  wintry  nights, 

That  warms  my  poor  old  heart,  and  thaws  my  breast 

With  tears  of,  —  Mais,  Monsieur,  asse"yez  vcrus!"  — 

But  I  had  started  up,  and  turn'd  aside 

To  weep  in  solitude.  — 


WISDOM'S    WISH. 

AH,  might  I  but  escape  to  some  sweet  spot, 

Oasis  of  my  hopes,  to  fancy  dear, 
Where  rural  virtues  are  not  yet  forgot, 

And  good  old  customs  crown  the  circling  year; 
Where  still  contented  peasants  love  their  lot, 

And  trade's  vile  din  offends  not  nature's  ear, 
But  hospitable  hearths,  and  welcomes  warm, 
To  country  quiet  add  their  social  charm: 
18 


410  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Some  smiling  bay  of  Cambria's  happy  shore, 
A  wooded  dingle  on  a  mountain  side, 

Within  the  distant  sound  of  ocean's  roar, 
And  looking  down  on  valley  fair  and  wide, 

Nigh  to  the  village  church,  to  please  me  more 
Than  vast  cathedrals  in  their  Gothic  pride, 

And  blest  with  pious  pastor,  who  has  trod, 

Himself  the  way,  and  leads  his  flock  to  God;  — 

"  There  would  I  dwell,  for  I  delight  therein ! " 

Far  from  the  evil  ways  of  evil  men, 
Untainted  by  the  soil  of  others'  sin, 

My  own  repented  of,  and  clean  again: 
With  health  and  plenty  crown'd,  and  peace  within, 

Choice  books,  and  guiltless  pleasures  of  the  pen, 
And  mountain  rambles  with  a  welcome  friend, 
And  dear  domestic  joys  that  never  end. 

There,  from  the  flowery  mead,  or  shingled  shore, 
To  cull  the  gems  that  bounteous  nature  gave, 

From  the  rent  mountain  pick  the  brilliant  ore, 
Or  seek  the  curious  crystal  in  its  cave ; 

And  learning  nature's  Master  to  adore, 
Know  more  of  Him  who  came  the  lost  to  save; 

Drink  deep  the  pleasures  contemplation  gives, 

And  learn  to  love  the  meanest  thing  that  lives. 

No  envious  wish  my  fellows  to  excel, 
No  sordid  money-getting  cares  be  mine  ; 

No  low  ambition  in  high  state  to  dwell, 

Nor  meanly  grand  among  the  poor  to  shine : 

But,  sweet  benevolence,  regale  me  well 

With  those  cheap  pleasures  and  light  cares  of  thine, 

And  meek-eyed  piety,  be  always  near, 

With  calm  content,  and  gratitude  sincere. 

Rescued  from  cities,  and  forensic  strife, 

And  walking  well  with  God  in  nature's  eye 

Blest  with  fair  children,  and  a  faithful  wife, 
Love  at  my  board,  and  friendship  dwelling  nigh, 


THE  MOTHER'S  LAMENT.  411 

Oh  thus  to  wear  away  my  useful  life, 

And,  when  I'm  call'd,  in  rapturous  hope  to  .die, 
Thus  to  rob  heaven  of  all  the  good  I  can, 
And  challenge  earth  to  show  a  happier  man ! 


THE    MOTHER'S    LAMENT 

MY  own  little  darling  —  dead! 
The  dove  of  my  happiness  fled! 

Just  Heaven,  forgive, 

But  let  me  not  live, 
Now  my  poor  babe  is  dead : 

No  more  to  my  yearning  breast 
Shall  that  sweet  mouth  be  prest, 

No  more  on  my  arm, 

Nestled  up  warm, 
Shall  my  fair  darling  rest: 

Alas,  for  that  dear  glaz'd  eye, 
Why  did  it  dim  or  die? 

Those  lips  so  soft, 

I  have  kissed  so  oft, 
Why  are  they  ice,  oh  why? 

Alas,  little  frocks  and  toys, 
Shadows  of  bygone  joys  ; 

Have  I  not  treasure 

Of  bitterest  pleasure 
In  these  little  frocks  and  toys  ? 

O  harrowing  sight  to  behold 
That  marble-like  face  all  cold, 

That  small  cherish'd  form 

Flung  to  the  worm, 
Deep  in  the  charnel-mould ! 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Where  is  each  heart-winning  way> 
Thy  prattle,  and  innocent  play  ? 

Alas,  they  are  gone, 

And  left  me  alone 
To  weep  for  them  night  and  day. 

Yet  why  should  I  linger  behind  ? 
Kill  me  too,  —  death  most  kind  : 

Where  caTi  I  go 

To  meet  thy  blow, 
And  my  sweet  babe  to  find? 

I  know  it,  I  rave  half-wild! 
But  who  can  be  calm  and  mild, 

When  the  deep  heart 

Is  riven  apart 
Over  a  dear  dead  child? 

I  know  it,  I  should  not  speak 
So  boldly,  —  I  ought  to  be  meek, 
But  love  it  is  strong, 
And  my  spirit  is  stung, 
Lying  all  numb'd  and  weak. 


TRUST. 

"My  times  are  in  thy  hand." 

YET  will  I  trust !  in  all  my  feare,         . 

Thy  mercy,  gracicus  Lord,  appears, 

To  guide  mo  through  this  vale  of  tears, 

And  be  rny  strength ; 
Thy  mercy  guides  the  ebb  and  flow 
Of  health  and  joy,  or  pain  and  woe, 
To  wean  my  heart  from  all  below 

To  Thee  at  length. 


FLOWERS.  413 

Yes,  —  welcome  pain,  —  which  Thou  hast  sent  — 
Yes,  —  farewell  blessings,  —  Thou  hast  lent, 
With  Thee  alone  I  rest  content, 

For  Thou  art  Heav'n,— 
My  trust  reposes,  safe  and  still, 
On  the  wise  goodness  of  Thy  will, 
Grateful  for  earthly  good  —  or  ill, 

Which  Thou  hast  giv'n. 

O  blessed  friend!  O  blissful  thought' 
With  happiest  consolation  fraught,  — 
Trust  Thee  I  may,  1  will,  I  ought,  — 

To  doubt  were  sin ; 
Then  let  whatever  storms  arise, 
Their  Ruler  sits  above  the  skies, 
And  lifting  unto  Him  mine  eyes, 

'Tis  calm  within. 

Danger  may  threaten,  foes  molest, 

Poverty  brood,  disease  infest, 

Yea,  torn  affections  wound  the  breast 

For  one  sad  hour. 

But  faith  looks  to  her  home  on  high, 
Hope  casts  around  a  cheerful  eye, 
And  love  puts  all  the  terrors  by 

With  gladdening  power. 


FLOWERS. 

WILT  thou  gaze  with  me  on  flowers, 
And  let  their  sparkling  eyes, 

Glancing  brightly  up  to  ours, 
Teach  us  to  be  wise? 


414  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

The  pale  narcissus  tells  of  youth 

Nurtured  in  purity  and  truth ; 

Violets  on  the  moss-bank  green, 

Of  sweet  benevolence  unseen ; 

A  rose  is  blooming  charity; 

A  snow-drop,  fair  humility; 

Yon  golden  crocus,  smiling  sweetly, 

Smiles,  alas,  to  perish  fleetly ; 

That  hyacinth,  with  cluster'd  bells, 

Of  sympathy  in  sorrow  tells ; 

This  young  mimosa,  as  it  trembles, 

Affection's  thrilling  heart  resembles ; 

And  the  glazed  myrtle's  fragrant  bloom 

Hints  at  a  life  that  mocks  the  tomb. 

What  is  a  flower?  a  beauteous  gem 

Set  in  nature's  diadem, 

A  sunbeam  o'er  her  tresses  flung, 

A  word  from  her  poetic  tongue; 

A  silent  burst  of  eloquence, 

A  plaything  of  Omnipotence;  — 

The  poet's  eye  sees  much  in  these 

To  learn,  and  love,  and  praise,  and  please. 


WEDDING    GIFTS. 

YOUNG  bride,  —  a  wreath  for  thee ! 

Of  sweet  and  gentle  flowers  ; 
For  wedded  love  was  pure  and  free 

In  Eden's  happy  bowers. 

Young  bride, — a  song  for  thee! 

A  song  of  joyous  measure, 
For  thy  cup  of  hope  shall  be 

Fill'd  with  honied  pleasure. 


MARRIAGE. 

Young  bride,  —  a  tear  for  thee! 

A  tear  in  all  thy  gladness  ; 
For  thy  young  heart  shall  not  see 

Joy  unmix'd  with  sadness. 

Young  bride,  —  a  smile  for  thee! 

To  shine  away  thy  sorrow, 
For  heaven  is  kind  to-day,  and  we 

Will  hope  as  well  to-morrow. 

Young  bride,  —  a  prayer  for  thee! 

That  all  thy  hopes  possessing, 
Thy  soul  may  praise  her  God,  and  he 

May  crown  thee  with  his  blessing. 


MARRIAGE. 

IT  is  most  genial  to  a  soul  refined, 

When  love  can  smile  unblushing,  unconcealed, 
When  mutual  thoughts,  and  Words,  and  acts  are  kind, 

And  inmost  hopes  and  feelings  are  revealed ; 
When  interest,  duty,  trust,  together  bind, 

And  the  heart's  deep  affections  are  unsealed, 
When  for  each  other  live  the  kindred  pair,  — 
Here  is  indeed  a  picture  passing  fair! 

Hail,  happy  state!  which  few  have  heart  to  sing, 
Because  they  feel  how  faintly  words  express 

So  kind,  and  dear,  and  chaste,  and  sweet  a  thing 
As  tried  affection's  lasting  tenderness;  — 

Yet  stop,  my  venturous  muse!  and  fold  thy  wing 
Nor  to  a  shrine  so  sacred  rudely  press ; 

For,  marriage,  —  thine  is  still  a  silent  boast, 

"Like  beauty  unadorned,  adorned  the  most" 


416  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


A    GLIMPSE    OF    PARADISE. 

NOT  many  rays  of  heaven's  unfallen  sun 

Reach  the  dull  distance  of  this  world  of  ours, 
Nor  oft  dispel  its  shadows  cold  and  dun, 

Nor  oft  with  glory  tint  its  faded  flowers: 
But,  oh,  if  ever  yet  there  wandered  one, 

Like  Peri  from  her  amaranthine  bowers, 
Or  ministering  angel,  sent  to  bless,  — 
'Twas  to  thy  hearth,  domestic  happiness !  — 
Where,  in  the  sunshine  of  a  peaceful  home, 
Love's  choicest  roses  bud,  and  burst,  and  bloom, 
And  bleeding  hearts,  lull'd  in  a  holy  calm, 
Bathe  their  deep  wounds  in  Gilead's  healing  balm. 


A    DEBT    OF    LOVE. 

THOU,  more  than  all -endeared  to  this  glad  heart 

By  gentle  smiles,  and  patience  under  pain, 
I  bless  my  God  and  thee,  for  all  thou  art, 

My  crowning  joy,  my  richest  earthly  gain! 

To  thee  is  due  this  tributary  strain 
For  all  the  well-observed  kind  offices 

That  spring  spontaneous  from  a  heart,  imbued, 
With  the  sweet  wish  of  living  but  to  please; 

Due  for  thy  liberal  hand,  thy  frugal  mind, 

Thy  pitying  eye,  thy  voice  for  ever  kind, 
For  tenderness,  truth,  confidence,  —  all  these : 

My  heaven-blest  vine,  that  hast  thy  tendrils  twin'd 
Round  one  who  loves  thee,  though  his  strain  be  rude, 
Accept  thy  best  reward,  —  thy  husband's  gratitude. 


ON   THE   BIRTH    OF    LITTLE    MARY.  417 


TO    LITTLE    ELLEN. 

Mr  precious  babe,  my  guileless  little  girl, 

The  soft  sweet  beauty  of  thy  cherub  face 
Is  smiling  on  me,  radiant  as  a  pearl 

With  young  intelligence,  and  infant  grace ; 

And  must  the  wintry  breath  of  life  efface 
Thy  purity,  fair  snow-drop  of  the  spring? 

Must  evil  taint  thee,  —  must  the  world  enthrall 
Thine  innocent  mind,  poor  harmless  little  thing? 

Ah,  yes !   thou  too  must  taste  the  cup  of  woe, 

Thy  heart  must  learn  to  grieve,  as  others  do, 
Thy  soul  must  feel  life's  many-pointed  sting: 

But  fear  not,  darling  child,  for  well  I  know 
Whatever  cares  may  meet  thee,  ills  befall, 
Thy  God,  —  thy  father's  God,  —  shall  lead  thee  safe  through  all. 


ON  THE  BIRTH  OF  LITTLE  MARY. 

Lo,  Thou  hast  crowned  me  with  another  blessing, 

Into  my  lot  has  dropt  one  mercy  more ;  — 
All  good,  all  kind,  all  wise  in  Thee  possessing, 

My  cup,  O  bounteous  Giver,  runneth  o'er, 

And  still  thy  princely  hand  doth  without  ceasing  pour: 
For  the  sweet  fruit  of  undecaying  love 

Clusters  in  beauty  round  my  cottage  door, 
And  this  new  little  one,  like  Noah's  dove, 

Comes  to  mine  ark  with  peace,  and  plenty  for  my  store. 
O  happy  home,  O  bright  and  cheerful  hearth ! 

Look  round  with  me,  my  lover,  friend,  and  wife, 

On  these  fair  faces  we  have  lit  with  life, 
And,  in  the  perfect  blessing  of  their  birth, 
Help  me  to  live  our  thanks  for  so  much  heaven  on  earth. 
18* 


418  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


DAYS    GONE     BY. 

THOUGH  we  charge  to-day  with  fleetness, 
Though  we  dread  to-morrow's  sky, 

There's  a  melancholy  sweetness 
In  the  name  of  days  gone  by: 

Yes,  though  Time  has  laid  his  finger 
On  them,  still  with  streaming  eye 

There  are  spots  where  I  can  linger, 
Sacred  to  the  days  gone  by. 

Oft  as  memory's  glance  is  ranging 

Over  scenes  that  cannot  die, 
Then  I  feel  that  all  is  changing, 

Then  I  weep  the  days  gone  by. 

Sorrowful  should  I  be,  and  lonely, 

Were  not  all  the  same  as  I, 
'Tis  for  all,  not  my  lot  only, 

To  lament  the  days  gone. 

Cease,  fond  heart,  —  to  thee  are  given 
Hopes  of  better  things  on  high, 

There  is  still  a  coming  heaven 
Brighter  than  the  days  gone  by: 

Faith  lifts  off  the  sable  curtain 

Hiding  huge  eternity, 
Hope  accounts  her  prize  as  certain, 

And  forgets  the  days  gone  by. 

Love  in  grateful  adoration 

Bids  distrust  and  sorrow  fly, 
And  with  glad  anticipation 

Calms  regret  for  days  gone  by. 


THE    CRISIS  —  CHARITY.  419 


THE     CRISIS. 

HUSH  —  O  heaven!   a  moment  more, 
A  breath,  a  step,  and  all  is  o'er; 
Hark — beneath  the  waters  wild! 
Save,  O  mercy,  save  my  child. 

Swiftly  from  her  heaving  breast 
The  mother  tore  the  snowy  vest,  — 
Her  little  truant  saw  and  smil'd, 
Turn'd,  —  and  mercy  sav'd  the  child. 

Thus,  the  face  of  love  can  win 
Where  fear  is  weak  to  scare  from  sin, 
Thus,  when  faith  and  conscience  slept, 
Jesus  look'd,  —  and  Peter  wept. 


CHARITY. 

FAIR  Charity, — thou  rarest,  best,  and  brightest! 

Who  would  not  gladly  hide  thee  in  his  heart, 
With  all  thine  angel  guests? — for  thou  delightest 

To  bring  such  with  thee,  —  guests  that  ne'er  depart; 
Cherub,  with  what  enticement  thou  invitest, 

Perfect  in  winning  beau:y  as  thou  art, 
World-wearied  man  to  plant  thee  in  his  bosom, 
And  graft  upon  his  cares  thy  balmy  blossom. 

Fain  would  he  be  frank-hearted,  generous,  cheerful, 
Forgiving,  aiding,  loving,  trusting  ALL,  — 

But  knowledge  of  .his  kind  has  made  him  fearful 
All  are  not  friends,  whom  friends  he  longs  to  call ; 

For  prudence  makes  men  cold,  and  misery  tearful, 
And  interest  bids  them  rise  upon  his  fall, 


420  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

And  while  they  seek  their  selfish  own  to  cherish, 
They  leave  the  wounded  stag  alone  to  perish. 

Man  may  rejoice  that  thy  sweet  influence  hallows 
His  intercourse  with  all  he  loves  —  in  heaven ; 

But  canst  thou  make  him  love  his  sordid  fellows, 
Nor  mix  with  them  untainted  by  their  leaven  ? 

How  can  he  not  grow  cautious,  cold,  and  callous, 
When  he  forgives  to  seventy  times  seven, 

And  still-repeated  wrongs,  unwept  for,  harden 

The  heart  that's  never  sued  nor  sought  to  pardon  ? 

Reserve's  cold  breath  has  chilled  each  wanner  feeling, 

Ingratitude  has  frozen  up  his  blood, 
Unjust  neglect  has  pierced  him,  past  all  healing, 

And  scarred  a  heart  that  panted  to  do  good; 
Slowly,  but  surely,  has  distrust  been  steeling 

His  mind,  much  wronged,  and  little  understood; 
Would  Charity  unseal  affection's  fountain? 
Alas!  'tis  crushed  beneath  a  marble  mountain! 

Yet  the  belief  that  he  was  loved  by  other 
Could  root  and  hurl  that  mountain  in  the  sea, 

Oblivion's  depth  the  height  of  ill  would  smother, 
And  all  forgiven,  all  forgotten  be ; 

Man  then  could  love  his  once  injurious  brother  ' 
With  such  a  love  as  none  can  give  but  he : 

The  sun  of  love,  and  that  alone  has  power 

To  bring  to  bright  perfection  love's  sweet  flower. 

Soft  rain,  and  zephyrs,  and  warm  noons  can  vanquish 
The  stubborn  tyranny  of  winter's  frost; 

Once  more  the  smiling  valleys  cease  to  languish, 
Drest  out  in  fresher  beauties  than  they  lost; 

So  springs  with  gladness  from  its  bed  of  anguish 
The  heart  that  loved  not,  when  reviled  and  crost, 

For,  though  case-hardened  by  ill-usage,  often 

Love's  sunny  smile  the  rockiest  heart  will  soften. 


SONNET  — THE    FORSAKEN.  421 

SONNET 

TO   THE   UNDYING   SPIRIT    OF    FREDERICK   K1OPSTOCK. 

(The  allusions  herein  are  to  expressions  contained  in  his  letters.) 

IMMORTAL  mind,  so  bright  with  beautiful  thought, 

And  robed  so  fair  in  loveliest  sympathy, 
"  Thou  Christian,"  by  thy  "  guardian  angel "  taught 

The  master-touches  of  all  melody,  . 

Am  not  I  "  one  of  those  "  unworthy,  sought 

By  thy  rapt  soul  with  "  love's  prospective  eye  ?  " 
I  feel  I  love  thee,  "  brother,"  as  I  ought,  — 

Look  down  and  love  me  too,  where'er  thou  art: 

I  too  am  cherish'd  by  as  kind  a  heart 
As  beat  in  "  gentle  Cidli's  "  breast  divine, 
I  too  can  bless  the  hand  which  made  her  mine ; 

And  within  me,  congenial  feelings  dart, 
Whether  to  glow,  or  thrill,  or  hope,  or  melt, 
My  soul  attuned  to  thine  can  feel  as  thou  hast  felt. 


THE    FORSAKEN. 

I  THOUGHT  him  still  sincere, 

I  hoped  he  loved  me  yet ; 
My  poor  heart  pants  with  harrowing  fear, 

O  canst  thou  thus  forget? 

I  gazed  into  his  face, 

And  scann'd  his  features  o'er, — 
And  there  was  still  each  manly  grace 

That  won  my  love  before : 


422  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

But  coldly  looked  those  eyes 

Which  oft  had  thrilled  my  breast, 

He  was  too  great,  too  rich,  too  wise, 
To  make  \ne  his  confest. 

Couldst  thou  know  what  I  felt 
To  see  thee  light  and  gay, 

Thy  frozen  heart  would  warm  and  melt, 
And  weep  its  ice  away: 

Yes,  /  can  tell  of  tears 

These  eyes  for  thee  have  shed, 

In  daily,  hourly,  nightly  prayers 
For  blessings  on  thy  head. 

I  name  thee  not,  through  shame 

That  truth  should  fade  and  flee : 
Fear  not,  —  thy  love,  thy  vows,  thy  name, 

Are  known  to  none  but  me. 

i  4 

Farewell !  'tis  mine  to  prove 
Of  blighted  hopes  the  pain ; 

But,  O  believe,  I  ne'er  can  love, 
As  I  have  lov'd,  again : 

Farewell ;  'tis  thine  to  change, 

Forget,  be  false,  be  free  ; 
But  know,  wherever  thou  shalt  range, 

That  none  can  love  like  me. 


THE    STAMMERER'S.  COMPLAINT. 

AH!  think  it  not  a  light  calamity 
To  be  denied  free  converse  with  my  kind, 
To  be  debarred  from  man's  true  attribute, 
The  proper  glorious  privilege  of  Speech. 


THE    STAMMERER'S    COMPLAINT.  423 

Hast  ever  seen  an  eagle  chain'd  to  earth  ? 

A  restless  panther  in  his  cage  immur'd  ? 

A  swift  trout  by  the  wily  fisher  check'd  ? 

A' wild  bird  hopeless  strain  its  broken  wing? 

Hast  ever  felt,  at  the  dark  dead  of  night, 

Some  undefined  and  horrid  incubus 

Press  down  the  very  soul,  —  and  paralyze 

The  limbs  in  the^r  imaginary  flight 

From  shadowy  terrors  in  unhallowed  sleep  ? 

Hast  ever  known  the  sudden  icy  chill 

Of  dreary  disappointment  as  it  dashes 

The  sweet  cup  of  anticipated  bliss 

From  the  parched  lips  of  long-enduring  hope  ? 

Then  thou  canst  picture,  —  aye,  in  sober  truth, 

In  real,  unexagge rated  truth,  — 

The  constant,  galling,  festering  chain  that  binds 

Captive  my  mute  interpreter  of  thought ; 

The  seal  of  lead  enstamp'd  npon  my  lips. 

The  load  of  iron  on  my  laboring  chest 

The  mocking  demon  that  at  every  step 

Haunts  me,  —  and  spurs  me  on  —  to  burst  with  3ile     .  ! 

Oh  !   'tis  a  sore  affliction  to  restrain, 

From  mere  necessity,  the  glowing  thought; 

To  feel  the  fluent  cataract  of  speech 

Check'd  by  some  wintry  spell,  and  frozen  up, 

Just  as  it's  leaping  from  the  precipice  ! 

To  be  the  butt  of  wordy  captious  fools, 

And  see  the  sneering,  self-complacent  smile 

Of  victory  on  their  lips,  when  I  might  prove 

(But  for  some  little  word  I  dare  not  utter,, 

That  innate  truth  is  not  a  specious  lie : 

To  hear  foul  slander  blast  an  honored  name, 

Yet  breathe  no  fact  to  drive  the  fiend  away  ; 

To  mark  neglected  virtue  in  the  dust, 

Yet  have  no  word  to  pity  or  console ; 

To  feel  just  indignation  swell  my  breast, 

Yet  know  the  fountain  of  my  wrath  is  sealed; 

To  see  my  fellow-mortals  hurrying  on 


424  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Down  the  steep  cliff  of  crime,  down  to  perdition, 
Yet  have  no  voice  to  warn,  —  no  voice  to  win ! 

'Tis  to  be  mortified  in  every  point,  • 

Baffled  at  every  turn  of  life,  for  want 
Of  that  most  common  privilege  of  man, 
The  merest  drug  of  gorged  society, 
Words,  —  windy  words. 

And  is  it  not  in  truth, 
A  poisoned  sting  in  every  social  joy, 
A  thorn  that  rankles  in  the  writhing  flesh, 
A  drop  of  gall  in  each  domestic  sweet, 
An  irritating  petty  misery, 
That  I  can  never  look  on  one.  I  love, 
And  speak  the  fulness  of  my  burning  thoughts  ? 
That  I  can  never  with  unmingled  joy 
Meet  a  long-loved  and  long-expected  friend, 
Because  I  feel,  but  cannot  vent  my  feelings,— 
Because  I  know  I  ought  —  but  must  not  speak, 
Because  I  mark  his  quick  impatient  eye 
Striving  in  kindness  to  anticipate 
The  word  of  welcome,  strangled  in  its  birth! 
Is  it  not  sorrow,  while  I  truly  love 
Sweet  social  converse,  to  be  forced  to  shun 
The  happy  circle,  from  a  nervous  sense, 
An  agonizing  poignant  consciousness 
That  I  must  stand  aloof,  nor  mingle  with 
The  wise  and  good,  in  rational  argument, 
The  young  in  brilliant  quickness  of  reply, 
Friendship's  ingenuous  interchange  of  mind, 
Affection's  open  hearted  sympathies, 
But  feel  myself  an  isolated  being, 
A  very  wilderness  of  widow'd  thought! 

Aye,  'tis  a  bitter  thing,  —  and  not  less  bitter 
Because  it  is  not  reckoned  in  the  ills, 
"The  thousand  natural  shocks  that  flesh  is  heir  to; 
Yet  the  full  ocean  is  but  countless  drops, 


BENEVOLENCE.  425 

And-  misery  is  an  aggregate  of  tears ; 
And  life,  replete  with  small  annoyances, 
la  but  one  long  protracted  scene  of  sorrow. 

I  scarce  would  wonder,  if  a  godless  man, 
(I  name  not  him  whose  hope  is  heavenward,) 
A  man,  whom  lying  ^vanities  hath  scath'd 
And  harden'd  from  all  fear,  —  if  such  an  one, 
By  this  tyrannical  Argus  goaded  on, 
Were  to  be  wearied  of  his  very  life, 
And  daily,  hourly  foiled  in  social  converse, 
By  the  slow  simmering  of  disappointment, 
Become  a  sour'd  and  apathetic  being, 
Were  to  feel  rapture  at  the  approach  of  death, 
And  long  for  his  dark  hope,  —  annihilation. 


BENEVOLENCE. 

"It  is  more  blessed  to  give,  than  to- receive." 

THERE  is  indeed  one  crowning  joy, 
A  pleasure  that  can  never  cloy, 

The  bliss  of  doing  good  ; 
And  to  it  a  reward  is  given 
Most  precious  in  the  sight  of  heaven, 

The  tear  of  gratitude. 

To  raise  the  fallen  from  the  dust, 
To  right  the  poor  by  judgment  just, 

The  broken  heart  to  heal, 
Pour  on  the  soul  a  stream  as  bright 
Of  satisfying  deep  delight 

As  happy  spirits  feel! 

Yes,  high  archangels  wing  their  way 
Far  from  the  golden  founts  of  day 


428  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

To  scenes  of  earthly  sadness, 
That  they  may  comfort  the  distress'd  — 
And  feel  in  blessing1,  deeply  blest, 

In  gladd'ning,  full  of  gladness. 

The  choicest  happiness  there  is, 
Godhead's  essential  perfect  bliss, 

Is  born  of  doing  good ; 
He  looks  around,  and  sees  the  eye 
Of  all  creation  spangled  by 

The  tear  of  gratitude! 

All  hail,  my  country's  noble  sons, 
Ye  generous  and  unselfish  ones, 

Who  foreign  shores  have  trod 
Smit  with  the  love  of  doing  good,  — 
•     O  that  my  portion  with  you  stood! 

For  ye  are  like  your  God. 

And  lives  there  one,  who  never  felt 
His  heart  with  zeal  or  kindness  melt, 

Nor  ever  shed  a  tear 
Of  sympathy  for  other's  woe  ? 
If  such  a  man  exist  below 

A  fiend  in  flesh  is  here. 

Brethren,  unsatisfied  with  earth, 

Who  heave  a  sigh  'mid  all  your  mirth, 

And  feel  it  empty  joy, 
Ye  may,  — jthere  onlv  wants  the  will,  — 
Your  dearest  hope  01  bliss  fulfil, 

Of  bliss  without  alloy  : 

Most  glad  a  thing  it  is  and  sweet, 
To  sit  and  learn  at  Wisdom's  feet, 

And  hear  her  dulcet  voice ; 
First  in  her  comforts  to  be  glad, 
And  then  to  comfort  other  sad, 

And  teach  them  to  rejoice: 


BENEVOLENCE,  427 

How  sweet  it  is  to  link  again 
Estranged  affection's  broken  chain, 

And  soothe  the  tortured  breast; 
To  be  the  favored  one  that  may 
Recall  to  love  hearts  torn  away, 

And  thus  by  both  be  blest! 

Rich  men  and  proud,  who  fain  would  find 
Some  new  indulgence  for  the  mind, 

Some  scheme  to  gladden  self, 
If  ye  will  feed  the  famish'd  poor, 
Happiness  shall  ye  buy,  far  more 

Than  with  a  world  of  pelf: 

Ye  cannot  see  the  tearful  eye, 
Ye  cannot  hear  the  grateful  sigh, 

Nor  feel  yourself  belov'd 
By  the  pale  children  of  distress, 
Whom  ye  have  been  the  gods  to  bless,— 

With  hearts  unthrill'd,  unmoved. 

And  you,  who  .love  your  fellow-men, 
And  feel  a  sacred  transport  when* 

Ye  can  that  love  fulfil, — 
Go,  rescue  yonder  tortured  brute, 
Its  gratitude  indeed  is  mute, 

But,  oh!  it  loves  you  still. 

Children  of  science,  who  delight 
To  track  out  wisdom's  beauty  bright 

In  earth,  or  sea,  or  sky,  — 
While  nature's  lovely  face  you  scan, 
Go,  seek  and  save  some  erring  man, 

And  set  his  hope  on  high. 

But  still,  reflect  that  all  the  good 
Ye  do,  demands  your  gratitude, 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

For  'tis  a  heavenly  boon, 
That  should  for  its  own  sake  be  sought, 
Though  to  itself  is  kindly  brought 

A  blessing  sweet  and  soon: 

It  is  reward  to  imitate, 
In  comforting  the  desolate, 

That  gracious  One  who  stood 
A  ransom  for  a  ruined  world, 
And  still,  himself  to  ruin  hurl'd, 

Found  evil  for  his  good. 

And  what  an  argument  for  pray'r 
Ilatli  yearning  mercy  written  there, 

For  if  indeed  "to  give 
Is  blessed  rather  than  the  gift"  — 
Go  thou,  to  heaven  the  voice  uplift, 

And  then  thou  must  receive. 


A    CABINET    OF    FOSSILS. 

COME,  and  behold  with  curious  eye 
These  records  of  a  world  gone  by, 
These  tell-tales  of  the  youth  of  time,— 
When  changes,  sudden,  vast,  sublime 
(From  chaos,  and  fair  order's  birth, 
To  the  last  flood  that  drowned  the  earth), 
Shattered  the  crust  of  this  young  world, 
Into  the  seas  its  mountain's  hurl'd, 
And  upon  boisterous  surges  strong 
Bore  the  broad  ruins  far  along 
To  pave  old  ocean's  shingly  bed, 
While  bursting  upwards  in  their  stead 
The  lowest  granites  towering  rose 
To  pierce  the  clouds  with  crested  snows. 


A    CABINET    OF    FOSSILS.  429 

Where  future  Apennine  or  Alp 
Bared  to  high  heaven  its  icy  scalp. 

Look  on  these  coins  of  kingdoms  old, 
These  medals  of  a  broken  mould  ; 
These  corals  in  the  green  hill-side, 
These  fruits  and  flowers  beneath  the  tide, 
These  struggling  flies,  in  amber  found, 
These  huge  pine  forests  underground, 
These  flint  sea-eggs,  with  curious  bosses, 
These  fibred  ferns,  and  fruited  mosses 
•Lying  as  in  water  spread, 
And  stone-struck  by  some  Gorgon's  head. 
The  chambers  of  this  graceful  shell, 
So  delicately  formed,. —  so  well 
None  can  declare  what  years  have  past 
Since  life  hath  tenanted  it  last, 
What  countless  centuries  have  flown 
Since  age  hath  made  the  shell  a  stone ; 
Gaze  with  me  on  those  jointed  sterns, 
A  living  plant  of  starry  gems, 
And  on  that  sea-flower,  light  and  fair. 
Which  shoots  its  leaves  in  agate  there; 
Behold  these  giant  ribs  in  stone 
Of  mighty  monsters,  long  unknown, 
That  in  some  antemundane  flood, 
Wallow'd  on  continents  of  nnud, 
A  lizard  race,  but  well  for  man, 
Dead  long  before  his  day  began, 
Monsters,  through  Providence  extinct, 
That  crocodiles  to  fishes  link'd; 
And  shreds  of  other  forms  beside 
That  sported  in  the  yeasty  tide, 
Or  flapping  far  with  dragon-wing 
On  the  slow  tortoise  wont  to  spring 
Or  ambush'd  in  the  rushes  rank 
Watch'd  the  dull  mammoth  on  the  bank, 
Or  lov'd  the  green  and  silent  deep, 
Or  on  the  coral-bank  to  sleep, 


430  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Where  many  a  rood,  in  passive  strength, 
The  sciily  reptiles  lay  at  length. 
For  there  are  wonders,  wondrous  strange, 
To  those  who  will  through  nature  range, 
And  use  the  mind,  and  clear  the  eye, 
And  let  instruction  not  pass  by  : 
There  are  deep  thoughts  of  tranquil  joy 
For  those  who  thus  their  hearts  employ, 
And  trace  the  wise  design  that  lurks 
In  holy  nature's  meanest  works, 
And  by  the  torch  of  truth  discern 
The  happy  lessons  good  men  learn ; 
O  there  are  pleasures,  sweet  and  new, 
To  those  who  thus  creation  view, 
And  as  on  this  wide  world  they  look, 
Regard  it  as  one  mighty  book, 
Inscribed  within,  before,  behind, 
With  workings  of  the  Master-mind; 
Rny'd  with  that  wisdom,  which  excels 
In  framing  worlds,  —  or  fretting  shells,— 
Filled  with  that  mercy,  which  delights 
In  blessing  men,  —  or  guiding  mites,— 
With  silent  deep  benevolence, 
With  hidden  mild  Omnipotence, 
With  order's  everlasting  laws, 
With  seen  effect,  and  secret  cause, 
Justice  and'  truth  in  all  things  rife, 
Filling  the  world  with  love  and  life, 
Arid  teaching  from  creation  round 
How  good  the  God  of  all  is  found, 
His  handiwork  how  vast,  how  kind, 
How  prearrang'd  by  clearest  mind, 
How  glorious  in  hia  own  estate, 
And  in  his  smallest  works,  how  GREAT! 


THE   MAST    OF   THE    VICTORY.  431 

» 

THE     MAST    OF    THE    VICTORY. 

A  BALLAD,  FOUNDED  ON  AN  ANECDOTE  HERE  DETAILED. 
PART  I. 

NINE  years  the  good  ship's  gallant  mast 

Encountered  storm  and  battle, 
Stood  firm  and  fast  against  the  blast, 

And  grape-shot's  iron  rattle  : 

And  still,  though  lightning,  ball,  and  pike, 

Had  stricken  oft,  and  scor'd  her, 
The  Victory  could  never  strike,  — 

For  Nelson  was  aboard  her! 

High  in  the  air  waved  proudly  there 

Old  England's  flag  of  glory,  — 
While  see!  below  the  broad  decks  flow 

With  streaming  slaughter  gory; 

Each  thundering  gun  is  robed  in  dun, — 

That  broadside  was  a  beauty,  — 
Hip,  hip,  hurrah!   the  battle's  won, 
Hip,  hip,  hurrah !   each  man  has  done 

This  day  a  sailor's  duty. 

But,  woesone  lot !   a  coward  shot 

Struck  Nelson  as  he  vanquish'd, 
And  Britain  in  her  griefs  forgot 
Her  glories,  where  her  son  was  not,  -— 

Her  lion-heart  was  anguish'd. 

For,  hit  at  last,  against  that  mast 

The  hero  faintly  lying, 
Felt  the  cold  breath  of  nearing  death, 
ad  knew  that  he  was  dying. 


432  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


PART    II. 

And  past  is  many  a  weary  day, 

Since  that  dark  glorious  hour, 
And  half  the  mast  was  stow'd  away 

In  Windsor's  royal  tower; 

But  three  feet  good  of  that  old  wood 

So  scarr'd  in  war,  and  rotten, 
Was  thrown  aside,  unknown  its  pride, 

Its  honors  all  forgotten : 

When,  as  in  shade  the  block  was  laid, 

Two  robins,  perching  on  it, 
Thought  that  place  best  to  build  a  nest,-— 

They  plann'd  it,  and  have  done  it: 

The  splintered  spot  which  lodged  a  shot 
Is  lined  with  moss  and  feather, 

And  chirping  loud,  a  callow  brood 
Are  nestling  up  together: 

How  full  of  bliss,  —  how  peaceful  is 
That  spot  the  soft  nest  caging, 

Where  war's  alarms,  and  blood-stained  arms 
Were  once  around  it  raging! 

And  so  in  sooth  it  is  a  truth 
That  where  the  heart  is  stricken, 

Sweeter  at  last,  for  perils  past 
That  used  the  soul  to  sicken, 

Comes  a  soft  calm,  with  healing  balm, 

Where  sorrow  deeply  smarted, 
And  peace  with  strength  is  sent,  at  length 

To  bless  the  broken-hearted. 


THE    SOULS    OF    BRUTES.  438 


AN    INQUIRY    CONCERNING    THE    SOULS 
-;.£•  -OF     BRUTES. 

"iJfCERTCS    ERRO    PER    LOCA    DEVIA." HOR. 

ARE  these,  then,  made  in  vain?   is  man  alone 
Of  all  the  marvels  of  creative  love 
Blest  with  a  scintillation  of  His  essence, 
The  heavenly  spark  of  reasonable  soul  ? 
And  hath  nofyon  sagacious  dog,  that  finds 
A  meaning  in  the  shepherd's  idiot  face, 
Or  the  huge  elephant,  that  lends  hi.s  strength     . 
To  drag  the  stranded  galley  to  the  shore, 
And  strives  with  emulative  pride  to  excel 
The  mindless  crowd  of  slaves  that  toil  beside  him, 
Or  the  young  generous  war-horse,  when  he  sniffii 
The  distant  field  of  blood,  and  quick  and  shrill 
Neighing  for  joy,  instils  a  desperate  courage 
Into  the  veteran  trooper's  quailing  heart  — 
Have  they  not  all  an  evidence  of  soul 
Of  soul,  the  proper  attribute  of  man), 
The  same  in  kind,  though  meaner  in  degree  ? 
Why  should  not  that  which  hath  been,  —  be  for  ever? 
And  death,  —  O  can  it  be  annihilation  ? 
No,  —  though  the  stolid  atheist  fondly  clings 
To  that  last  hope,  how  kindred  to  despair ! 
No,  —  'tis  the  struggling  spirit's  hour  of  joy, 
The  glad  emancipation  of  the  soul, 
The  moment  when  the  cumbrous  fetters  drop, 
And  the  bright  spirit  Vings  its  way  to  heaven! 

To  say  that  God  annihilated  aught, 
Were  to  declare  that  in  an  unwise  hour 
He  plann'd,  and  made  somewhat  superfluous . 
Why  should  not  the  mysterious  life,  t.hit  dwells 
In  reptiles  as  in  man,  and  shows  itself 
In  memory,  gratitude,  love,  hate,  and  pride, 
19 


434  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Still  energize,  and  be,  though  death  may  crush 
Yon  frugal  ant  or  thoughtless  butterfly, 
Or  with  the  simoom's  pestilential  gale 
Strike  down  the  patient  camel-  in  the  desert  ? 

There -is  one  chain  of  intellectual  soul, 
In  many  links  and  various  grades,  throughout 
The  scale  of  nature ;   from  the  climax  bright, 
The  first  great  Cause  of  all,  Spirit  supreme, 
Incomprehensible,  and  unconfin'd, 
To  high  archangels  blazing  near  the  throne, 
Seraphim,  cherubim,  virtues,  aids,  and  powers, 
All  capable  of  perfection  in  their  kind ;  — 
To  man,  as  holy  from  his  Maker's  hand 
He  stood,  in  possible  excellence  complete 
(Man,  who  is  destin'd  now  to  brighter  glories, 
As  nearer  to  the  present  God,  in  One 
His  Lord  and  substitute,  —  than  angela  reach) ; 
Then  man  as  fall'n,  with  every  varied  shade 
Of  character  and  capability, 
From  him  who  reads  his  title  to  the  skies,. 
Or  grasps  with  giant-mind  all  nature's  wonders, 
Down  to  the  monster  shap'd  in  human  form, 
Murderer,  slavering  fool,  or  blood-stained  savage; 
Then  to  the  prudent  elephant,  the  dog 
Half-humanized,  the  docile  Arab  horse, 
The  social  beaver,  and  contriving  fox, 
The  parrot,  quick  in  pertinent  reply, 
The  kind-aflfectioned  seal,  arid  patriot  bee, 
The  merchant-storing  ant,  and  wintering  swallow, 
With  atl  those  other  palpable  emanations 
•     And  energies  of  one  Eternal  Mind 
Pervading  and  instructing  all  that  live, 
Down  to  the  sentient  grass,  and  shrinking  clay. 
In  truth,  I  see  not  why  the  breath  of  life, 
Thus  omnipresent,  and  upholding  all, 
Should  not  return  to  Him,  and  be  immortal, 
(I  dare  not  say  the  same,)  in  some  glad  state 
Originally  destined  for  creation, 


THE    SOULS    OF    BRUTES.  435 

As  well  from  brutish  bodies,  as  from  man. 

The 'uncertain  glimmer  of  analogy 

Suggests  the  thought,  and  reason's  shrewder  guess; 

Yet  revelation  whispers  nought  but  this,  — 

"  Our  Father  careth  when  a  sparrow  dies," 

And  that  —  "  the  spirit  of  a  brute  descends," 

As  to  some  secret  and  preserving  Hades. 

But  for  some  better  life,  in  what  strange  sort 

Were  justice,  mixed  with  mercy,  dealt  to  these? 

Innocent  slaves  of  sordid,  guilty  man, 

Poor  unthank'd  drudges,  toiling  to  his  will, 

Pampered  in  youth,  and  haply  starved  in  age, 

Obedient,  faithful,  gentle,  though  the  spur 

Wantonly  cruel,  or  unsparing  thong, 

Weal  your  galled  hides,  or  your  strained  sinews  crack 

Beneath  the  crushing  load,  —  what  recompense 

Can  He  who  gave  you  being  render  you, 

If  in  the  rank  full  harvest  of  your  griefs 

Ye  sink  annihilated,  to  the  shame 

Of  government  unequal  ?' —  In  that  day 

When  crime  is  sentenced,  shall  the  cruel  heart 

Boast  uncondemn'd,  because  no  tortur'd  brute 

Stands  there  accusing  ?   shall  the  embodied  deeds 

Of  man  not  follow  him,  nor  the  rescued  fly 

Bear  its  kind  witness  to  the  saving  hand  ? 

Shall  the  mild  Brahmin  stand  in  equal  sin 

Regarding  nature's  menials,  with  the  wretch 

Who  flays  the  moaning  Abyssinian  ox, 

Or  roasts  the  living  bird,  or  flogs  to  death 

The  famishing  pointer? — and  must  these  again, 

These  poor,  unguilty,  uncomplaining  victims, 

Have  no  reward  for  life  with  its  sharp  pains  ?  — 

They  have  my  suffrage :   Nineveh  was  spared, 

Though  Jonah  prophesied  its  doom,  for  sake 

Of  six-score  thousand  infants,  and  "  much  cattle ; " 

And  space  is  wide  enough,  for  every  grain 

Of  the  broad  sands  that  curb  our  swelling  seas, 

Each  separate  in  its  sphere  to  stand  apart 


436  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

As  far  as  sun  from  sun:  there  lacks  not  room, 

Nor  time,  nor  care,  where  all  is  infinite*     \ 

And  still  I  doubt :  it  is  a  Gordian  knot, 

A  dark  deep  riddle,  rich  with  curious  thoughts; 

Yet  hear  rne  te]l  a  trivial  incident, 

And  draw  thine  own  conclusion  from  my  tale. 

Paris  kept  holiday ;   a  merrier  sight 

The  crowded  Champs  Elysees  never  saw : 

Loud  pealing  laughter,  songs,  and  flageolets, 

And  giddy  dances,  'neath  the  shadowing  elms, 

Green  vistas  throng'd  with  thoughtless  multitudes, 

Traitorous  processions,  frivolous  pursuits, 

And  pleasures  full  of  sin,  —  the  loud  "hurra!" 

And  fierce  enthusiastic  "  Vive  la  nation !  "  — 

Were  these  thy  ways  and  works,  O  godlike  man, 

Monopolist  of  mind,  great  patentee 

Of  truth,  :  :d  sense,  and  reasonable  soul? 

My  heart  was  sick  with  gayety ;  nor  less, 

When  (sad,  sad  contrast  to  the  sensual  scene,) 

I  marked  a  single  hearse  through  the  dense  crowd 

Move  on  its  noiseless  melancholy  way : 

The  blazing  sun  half  quench'd  it  with  his  beams, 

And  show'd  it  but  more  sorrowful :  I  gaz'd,       « 

And  gaz'd  with  wonder  that  no  feeling  heart, 

No  solitary  man  followed,  to  note 

The  spot  where  poor  mortality  must  sleep : 

Alas !  it  was  a  friendless  child  of  sorrow, 

That  stole  unheeded  to  the  house  of  Death  ! 

My  heart  beat  strong  with  sympathy,  and  loath'd 

The  noisy  follies  that  were  buzzing  round  me, 

And  I  resolved  to  watch  him  to  his  grave, 

And  give  a  man  his  fellow-sinner's  tear: 

I  left  the  laughing  crowd,  and  quickly  gained 

That  dreary  hearse,  and  found,  —  he  was  not  friendless ! 

Yes,  there  was  one,  one  only,-  faithful  found 

To  that  forgotten  wanderer,  —  his  dog! 

And  there,  with  measured  step,  and  drooping  head, 

And  tearful  eye,  paced  on  the  stricken  mourner. 


THE    CHAMOIS    HTJXTER.  437 

Yes,  I  remember  how  my  bosom  ached, 

To  see  its  sensible  fece  look  up  to  mine, 

As  in  confiding  sympathy,  —  and  howl ! 

Yes,  I  can  never  forget  what  grief  unfeigned, 

What  true  love,  and  unselfish  gratitude, 

That  poor,  bereaved,  and  soulless  dog  betrayed. 

Ah,  give  me,  give  me  such  a  friend,  I  cried ; 

Yon  myriad  fools  and  knaves  in  human  guise, 

Compared  with  thee,  poor  cur,  are  vain  and  worthiest; 

While  man,  who  claims  a  soul  exclusively, 

Is  sham'd  by  yonder  "mere  machine,   - — a  dog! 

-"EQUIDEM  CREDO  QUI  SIT  DIVINITUS  ILLIS  INGEJUUM." 

[F&yfc 


THE     CHAMOIS-HUNTER. 

A     LESSON     OF     LIFE. 

THE  scene  was  bathed  in  beauty  rare, 
For  Alpine  grandeur  toppled  there, 

With  emerald  spots  between; 
A  summer-evening's  blush  of  rose 
All  faintly  warmed  the  crested  snows, 

And  tinged  the -valleys  green; 

Night  gloom'd  apace,  and  dark  on  high 
The  thousand  banners  of  the  sky 

Their  awful  width  unfurl'd, 
Veiling  Mount  Blanc's  majestic  brow, 
That  seem'd  among  its  cloud-wrapt  snow, 

The  ghost  of  some  dead  world : 


438  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

When  Pierre,  the  hunter,  cheerly  went 
To  scale  the  Cation's  Hattlement 

Before  the  peep  of  day ; 
He  took  his  rifle,  pole,  and  rope, 
His  heart  and  eyes  alight  with  hope, 

He  hasted  on  his  way. 

He  crossed  the  vale,  he  hurried  on, 
lie  forded  the  cold  Arveron, 

The  first  rough  terrace  gain'c 
Throned  the  fir  wood's  gloomy  belt, 
And  Lod  the  snows  that  never  melt, 

And  to  the  summit  strained. 

Over  the  top,  as  he  knew  well, 
Beyond  the  glacier  in  the  deli 

A  herd  of  chamois  slept ; 
So  down  the  other  dreary  side, 
With  cautious  tread  or  careless  slide, 

He  bounded,  or  he  crept. 

And  now  he  nears  the  chasmed  ice ; 
He  stoops  to  leap,  —  and  in  a  trice, 

His  foot  hath  slipped,  - —  O  heaven ! 
He  hath  leapt  in,  and  down  he  falls 
Between  those  blue  tremendous  walls, 

Standing  asunder  riven. 

,  But  quick  his  clutching  nervous  grasp 

Contrives  a  jutting  crag  to  clasp, 

And  thus  he  hangs  in  air ;  — 
O  moment  of  exulting  bliss  ! 
Yet  hope  so  nearly  hopeless  ia 

Twin-brother  to  despair. 

He  look'J  beneath,  —  a  horrible  doom ! 
Some  thousand  yards  of  deepening  gloom, 


THE    CHAMOIS    HUNTER.  439 

i 

Where  he  must  drop  to*  die ! 
He  look'd  above,  and  many  a  rood 
Upright  the  frozen  ramparts  stood 
Around  a  speck  of  sky. 

Fifteen  long  dreadful  hours  he  hung, 
And  often  by  strong  breezes  swung, 

His  fainting  body  twists  ; 
Scarce  can  he  cling  one  moment  more, 
His  half-dead  hands  are  ice,  and  sore 

His  burning,  bursting  wrists; 

His  head  grows  dizzy,  —  he  must  drop, 
He  half  resolves,  —  but  stop,  O  stop, 

Hold  on  to  the  last  spasm ; 
Never  in  life  give  up  your  hope,  — 
Behold,  behold  a  friendly  rope 

Is  dropping  down  the  chasm ! 

They  call  thee,  Pierre,  —  see,  see  them  here, 
Thy  gather'd  neighbors  far  and  near, 

Be  cool,  man,  hold  on  fast: 
And  so  from  out  that  terrible  place, 
With  death's  pale  'paint  upon  his  face, 

They  drew  him  up  at  last. 

And  he  came  home  an  alter'd  man, 
For  many  harrowing  terrors  ran 

Through  his  poor  heart  that  day; 
He  thought  how  all  through  life,  though  young, 
Upon  a  thread,  a  hair,  he  hung 
.       Over  a  gulf  miclway. 

He  thought  what  fear  it  were  to  fall 
Into  the  pit  that  swallows  all, 

Unwing'd  with  hope  artd  love ; 
And  when  the  succor  came  at  last, 
O  then  he  learnt  how  firm  and  fast 

Was  his  best  Friend  above 


440  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


NATURE. 

I  STRAYED  at  evening  to  a  sylva«  scene 

Dimpling  with  nature's  smile  the  stern  old  mountain, 
A  shady  dingle,  -quiet,  cool  and  green, 

Where  the  mossed  rock  poured  forth  its  natural  fountain, 
And  hazels  clustered  there,  with  fern  between, 
And  feathery  tneadow-sweet  shed  perfume  round, 
And  the  pink  crocus  pierced  the  jewelled  ground; 

Then  was  I  calm  and  happy:  for  the  voice 
Of  nightingales  unseen,  in  tremulous  lays, 

Taught  me  with  innocent  gladness  to  rejoice, 
And  tuned  my  spirit  to  informal  praise! 
So  among  silvered  moths,  and  closing  flowers, 

Gambolling  hares,  and  rooks  returning  home, 

And  strong-winged  chafers  setting  out  to  roam, 
In  careless  peace  I  passed  the  soothing  hours. 


ART. 

THE  massy  fane  of  architecture  olden, 
Or  fretted  minarets  of  marble  white, 

Or  Moorish  arabesque,  begemmed  and  golden, 
Or  porcelain  Pagoda,  tipped  with  light, 
Or  high-spanned  arches, —  were  a  noble  sight: 

Nor  less  yon  gallant  ship,  that  treads  the  waves 
In  a  triumphant  silence  of  delight, 

Like  some  huge  swan  with  its  fair  wings  unfurled, 
Whose  curved  sides  flie  laughing  water  laves, 

Bearing  it  buoyant  o'er  the  liquid  world ; 
Nor  less  yon  silken  monster  of  the  sky, 

Around  whose  wicker  car  the  clouds  are  curled, 
Helping  undannted  man  to  scale  on  high 
Nearer  the  sun  than  eagles  dare  to  fly ;  — 
Thy  trophies  these,  —  still  but  a  modest  part 
Of  thy  grand  conquests    wonder-working  Art. 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS.  441 

• 

CHEERFULNESS. 

AN   INVOCATION. 

COME  to  my  heart  of  hearts,  thou  radiant  face! 

So  shall  I  gaze  for  ever  on  thy  fairness; 
Thine  eyes  are  smiling  stars,  and  holy  grace 

Blossoms  thy  cheek  with  its  .exotic  rareness, 
Trellising  it  with  jasmin-woven  lace : 

G«me,  laughing  maid, —  yet  in  thy  laughter  calm, 
Be  this  thy  home, 
Fair  cherub,  come ! 

Solace  my  days  with  thy  luxurious  balm, 
And  hover  o'er  my  nightly  couch,  sweet  dove, 
So  shall  I  live  in  joy,  by  living  in  thy  love ! 

MALICE. 

A     DEPRECATION. 

WHITE  Devil !  turn  from  me  thy  lowering  eye, 

Let  thy  lean  lips  unlearn  their  bitter  smile, 

Down  thine  own  throat  I  force  its  still-born  lie, 

And  teach  thee  to  digest  -it  in  thy  bile,  — 

But  I. will  merrily  mock  at  thee  the  while: 

Such  venom  cannot  harm  me ;   for  I  sit 

On  a  fair  hill  of  name,  and  power,  and  purse, 
Too  high  for  any  shaft  of  thine  to  hit, 

Beyond  the  petty  reaching  of  thy  curse,. 
Strong  in  good  purpose,  praise,  and  pregnant  wit: 
Husband  thy  hate  for  toads  of  thine  own  level, 

I  breathe  an  atmosphere  too  rare  for  thee: 
Back  to  thy  trencher  at  the  witches'  revel, 
Too  long  they  wait  thy  goodly  company : 
Yet  know  thou  this,  —  I'll  crush  thee,  sorry  devil, 
If  ever  again  thou  wag  thy  tongue  at  me. 
19* 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

O  NAME  for  comfort,  refuge,  hope,  and  peace, 
O  spot. by  gratitude  and  memory  blest! 

Where,  as  in  brighter  worlds,  "the  wicked  cease 
From  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest," 
And  unfledged  loves  anj  graces  have  their  nest: 

How  brightly  here  the  various  virtues  shine, 
And  nothing  said  or  done  is  seen  amiss ; 

While  sweet  affections  every  heart  entwine^ 
And  differing  tastes  and  talents  all  unite, 
Like  hues  prismatic  blending  into  white, 

In  charity  to  man,  and  love  divine : 
Thou  little  kingdom  of  serene  delight, 

Heaven's  nursery  and  foretaste !   O  what  bliss 

Where  earth  to  wearied  men  can  give  a  home  like  this. 


THE    WRETCHED    HOME. 

SCENE  of  disunion,  bickering,  and  strife,1 

What  curse  has  made  thy  native  blessings  die? 
Why  do  these  broils  embitter  daily  life," 

And  cold  self-interest  forai  the  strongest  tie  ? 

Hate,  ill  concealed,  is  flashing  from  the  eye, 
And  muttered  vengeance  curls  the  pallid  lip; 

What  should 'be  harmony  is  all  at  jar;  — 
Doubt  and  reserve  love's  timid  blossoms  nip, 

And  weaken  nature's  bonds  to  ropes  of  sand ; 

While  evil  indifference  takes  the  icy  hand  — 
(O  chilling  touch!)  —  of  constrained  fellowship: 

What  secret  demon  has  such  discord  fanned  ? 
What  ill  committed  stirs  this  penal  war, — 
Or  what  omitted  good  ?  —  Alas !  that  such  things  are. 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS. 


THEORY. 

How  fair  and  facile  seems  that  upland  road, 

Surely  the  mountain  air  is  fresh  and  sweet, 
And  briskly  shall  I  bear  this  mortal  load 

With  well-braced-  sinews,  and  unweary  feet ; 

How  dear  my  fellow-pilgrims  oft  to  meet 
O'ertaken,  as  to  reach  yon  blest  abode 

We  strive  together,  in  glad  hope  to  greet, 
With  angel  friends  and  our  approving  God, 

All  that  in  life  we  once  have  loved  so  well, 
So  that  we  loved  be  worthy:  her  bright  wings, 
My  willing  spirit  plumes,  and  upward  springs 

Rejoicing,  over  crag,  and  fen,  and  fell, 
And  down,  or  up,  the  cliff's  precipitous  face, 
To  run  or  fly  her  buoyant  happy  race ! 


PRACTICE. 

THIS  body,  —  O  the  body  of  this  death! 

Strive  as  thou  "wilt,  do  all  that  mortal  can, 

This  is  the  sum,  a  man  is  but  a  man, 
And  weak  in  error  strangely  wandereth 

Down  flowery  lanes,  with  pain  and  peril  fraught, 

Conscious  of  what  he  doth,  and  what  he  ought. 
Alas,  —  but  wherefore  ?  — •  scarce  my  plaintive  breath 

Wafts  its  faint  question  to  the  listening  sky, 
When  thus  in  answer  some  kind  spirit  saith ; 

"  Man,  thou  art  mean,  altho'  thine  aim  be  high ; 
All  matter  hath  one  law,  concentring  strong 

To  some  attractive  point,  —  and  thy  world's  core 
Is  the  foul  seat  of  hell,  and  pain,  and  wrong : 

Yet  courage,  man !   the  strife  shall  soon  be  o'er, 
And  that  poor  leprous  husk,  sore  travailing  long, 

Shall  yet  cast  off  its  death  in  second  birth, 

And  flame  anew  a  heavenly  centred  earth ! " 


MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


RICHES. 

HEAPS  upon  heaps,  —  hillocks  of  yellow  gold, 
Jewels,  and  hanging  silks,  and  piled-up  plate, 

And  marble  groups  in  beauty's  choicest  mould, 
And-  viands  rare,  and  odors  delicate, 

And  art  and  nature,  in  divinest  works, 

Swell  the  full  pomp  of  my  triumphant  state 
With  all  that  makes  a  mortal  glad  and  great ; 

—  Ah  no,  not  glad :   within  my  secret  heart 

The  dreadful  knowledge,  like  a  death-worm  lurks, 

That  all  this  drearn  of  life  must  soon  depart; 
And  the  hot  curse  of  talents  misapplied 

Blisters  my  conscience  with  its  burning  smart, 
So  that  I  long  to  fling  my  wealth  aside  : 
For  my  poor  soul,  when  its  rich  mate  hath  died, 
Must  lie  witn  Dives,  spoiled  of  all  its  pride. 


POVERTY. 

THE  sun  is  bright  and  glad,  but  not  for  me, 

My  heart  is  dead  to  all  but  pain  and  sorrow, 
Nor  care  nor  hope  have  I  in  all  I  see, 

Save  from  the  fear  that  I  may  starve  to-morrow; 
And  eagerly  I  seek  uncertain  toil, 

Leaving  my  sinews  in  the  thankless  furrow, 
To  drain  a  scanty  pittance  from  the  soil, 
While  my  life's  lamp  burns  dim  for  lack  of  oil. 

Alas,  for  you,  poor  famishing  patient  wife, 
And  pale-faced  little  ones  !   your  feeble  cries 

Torture  my  soul ;   worse  than  a  blank  is  life 
Beggared  of  all  that  makes  that  life  a  prize  : 

Yet  one  thing  cheers  me,  —  is  not  life  the  door 

To  that  rich  world  where  no  one  can  be  poor? 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS. 


LIGHT. 

A  GLORIOUS  vision ;   as  I  walked  at  noon, 

The  children  of  the  sun  came  thronging  round  me, 
In  shining  robes  and  diamond-studded  shoon ; 
And  they  did  wing  me  up  with  them,  and  soon 

In  a  bright  dome  of  wondrous  width  I  found  me, 
Set  all  with  beautiful  eyes,  whose  wizard  rays, 

Shed  on  my  soul,  in  strong  enchantment  bound  me; 
And  so  I  looked  and  looked  with  dazzled  gaze, 

Until  my  spirit  drank  in  so  much  light 
That  I  grew  like  the  sons  of  that  glad  place, 

Transparent,  lovely,  pure,  serene,  and  bright: 
Then  did  they  call  me  brother ;   and  there  grew 

Swift  from  my  sides  broad  pinions  gold  and  white, 
And  with  that  happy  flock  a  brilliant  thing  I  flew! 


DARKNESS. 

A  TERRIBLE  dream :   I  lay  at  dead  of  night 

Tortured  by  some  vague  fear ;  it  seemed  at  first 
Like  a  small  ink-spot  on  the  ceiling  white, 
To  a  black  bubble  swelling  in  my  sight, 

And  then  it  grew  to  a  balloon,  and  burst ; 
Then  was  I  drowned,  as  with  an  ebon  stream, 

And  those  dark  waves  quenched  all  mine  inward  light, 
That  in  my  saturated  mind  no  gleam 

Remained  of  beauty,  peace,  or  love,  or  right: 
I  was  a  spirit  of  darkness!  —  yet  I  knew 

I  could  not  thus  be  left;   it  was  but  a  dream; 
Still  felt  I  full  of  horror;   for  a  crew 

Of  shadowy  ITS  hemmed  in  my  harried  mind, 
And  all  my  dread  was  waking  mad  and  blind. 


446  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


POETRY. 

To  touch  the  heart,  and  make  its  pulses  thrill, 

To  raise  and  purify  the  grovelling  soul, 
To  warm  with  generous  heat  the  selfish  will, 

To  conquer  passion  with  a  mild  control, 
And  the  whole  man  with  nobler  thoughts  to  fill, 

These  are  thine  aims,  O  pure  unearthly  power ! 
These  are  thine  influences ;  and  therefore  those 
Whose  wings'  are  clogged  with  evil,  are  thy  foes ; 
And  therefore  these,  who  have  thee  for  their  dower, 
The  widowed  spirits  with  no  portion  here, 

Eat  angels'  food,  the  manna  thou  dost  shower: 
For  thine  are  pleasures,  deep,  and  tried,  and  true, 

Whether  to  read,  or  write,  or  think,  or  hear, 
By  the  gross  million  spurned,  and  fed  on  by  the  few. 


PROSE. 

THAT  the  fine  edge  of  intellect  is  dulled, 

And  mortal  ken  with  cloudy  films  obscure, 
And  the  numbed  heart  so  deep  in  stupor  lulled 

That  virtue's  self  is  weak  its  love  to  lure, 

But  pride  and  lust  keep  all  the  gates  secure, 
This  is  thy  fall,  O  man ;   and  therefore  those 
Whose  aims  are  earthly,  like  pedestrian  prose, 

The  selfish^  useful,  money-making  plan, 
Cold  language  of  the  desk,  or  quibbling  bar, 

Where  in  hard  matter  sinks  ideal  man : 
Still,  worldly  teacher,  be  it  from  me  far 

Thy  darkness  to  confound  with  yon  bright  band, 
Poetic  all,  though  not  so  named  by  men, 
Who  have  swayed  royally  the  mighty  pen, 

And  now  as  kings  in  prose  on  fame's  clear  summit  stand. 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS.  447 


FRIENDSHIP,     CONSTRAINED. 

GENTLE,  but  generous,  modest,  pure,  and  learned, 

Ready  to  hear  the  fool,  or  teach  the  wise, 
With  gracious  heart  that  all  within  him  burned 

To  wipe  the  tears  from  virtue's  blessed  eyes, 

And  help  again  the  struggling  right  to  rise; 
Such  an  one,  like  a  god,  have  I  discerned 

Walking  in  goodness  this  polluted  earth, 
And  cannot  choose  but  love  him :  to  my  soul, 
Swayed  irresistibly  with  sweet  control, 

So  rare  and  noble  seems  thy  precious  worth, 
That  the  young  fibres  of  my  happier  heart, 

Like  tendrils  to  the  sun,  are  stretching  forth 
To  twine  around  thy  fragrant  excellence, 

O  child  of  love;  —  so  dear  to  me  thou  art, 
So  coveted  by  me  thy  good  influence ! 


ENMITY,    COMPELLED. 

COARSE,  vain  and  vulgar,  ignorant  and  mean, 
Sensual  and  sordid  in  each  hope  and  aim, 

Selfish  in  appetite,  and  basely  keen 
In  tracking  out  gross  pleasure's  guilty  game 
With  eager  eye,  and  bad  heart  all  on  flame, 

Such  an  one,  like  an  Afreet,  have  I  seen, 
Shedding  o'er  this  fair  world  his  baleful  light, 

And  can  I  love  him  ?  —  far  be  from  my  thought 

To  show  not  such  the  charities  I  ought,  — 
But  from  his  converse  should  I  reap  delight, 

Nor  bid  the  tender  sproutings  of  my  mind 
Shrink  from  his  evil,  as  from  bane  and  blight, 
Nor  back  upon  themselves  my  feelings  roll  ?  • 

O  moral  monster,  loveless  and  unkind, 

Thou  art  as  wormwood  to  my  secret  soul! 


443  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


PHILANTHROPIC. 

COME  near  me,  friends  and  brothers ;  hem  me  round 

With  the  dear  faces  of  my  fellow-men ; 
The  music  of  your  tongues  with  magic  sound 
Shall  cheer  my  heart  and  make  me  happiest  then, 
My  soul  yearns  over  you  ;   the  sf  tting  hen 

Cowers  not  more  fondly  o'er  her  callow  brood 
Than  in  most  kind  excuse  of  all  your  ill, 

My  heart  is  warm  and  patient  for  your  good ; 

0  that  my  power  were  measured  by  my  will ; 
Then  would  I  bless  you  as  I  love  you  still, 

Forgiving,  as  I  trust  to  be  forgiven : 
Here,  vilest  of  my  kind,  take  hand  and  heart, 

1  also  am  a  man  —  'tis  all  thou  art, 

An  erring,  needy  pensioner  of  heaven. 


MISANTHROPIC. 

How  long  am  I  to  smell  this  tainted  air, 

And  in  a  pest  house  draw  my  daily  breath,  — 
Where  nothing  but  the  sordid  fear  of  death 
Restrains  from  grander  guilt  than  cowards  dare? 
O  loathsome,  despicable,  petty  race, 

Low  counterfeits  of  devils,  villanous  men, 
Sooner  than  learn  to  love  a  human  face, 

I'll  make  my  home  in  the  hysna's  den, 
•  Or  live  with  newts  and  bull-frogs  on  the  fen: 
These  at  least  are  honest ;  —  but  for  man, 
The  best  will  cheat  and  use  you  if  he  can ; 

The  best  is  only  varnished  o'er  with  good ; 
Subtle  for  self,  for  damning  mammon  keen, 
Cruel,  luxurious,  treacherous,  proud,  and  mean, — 

Great  Justice,  haste  to  crush  the  viper's  brood ; 
And  I  too  am  —  a  man !  —  O  wretched  fate 
To  be  the  thing  I  scorn  —  more  than  I  hate. 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS.  4*9 


COUNTRY. 

MOST  tranquil,  innocent,  and  happy  life, 

Full  of  the  holy  joy  chaste  'nature  yields, 
Redeemed  from  care,  and  sin,  and  the  hot  strife 
That  rings  around  the  smoked  unwholesome  dome 

Where  mighty  Mammon  his  black  sceptre  wields,  - 
Here  let  me  rest  in  humble  cottage  home, 

Here  let  me  labor  in  the  enamelled  fields: 
How  pleasant  in  these  ancient  woods  to  roam, 
With  kind-eyed  friend,  or  kindly-teaching  book: 

Or  the  fresh  gallop  on  the  dew-dropt  heath, 
Or  at  fair  eventide,  with  feathered  hook, 
To  strike  the  swift  trout  in  the  shallow  brook, 

Or  in  the  bower  to  twine  the  jasmin  wreath, 
Or  at  the  earliest  blush  of  summer  morn 

To  trim  the  bed,  or  turn  the-  new-mown  hay, 
Or  pick  the  perfumed  hop,  or  reap  the  golden  corn ! 

So  should  my  peaceful  life  all  smoothly  glide  away. 

TOWN. 

• 

ENOUGH  of  lanes,  and  trees,  and  valleys  green, 
Enough  of  briery  wood,  and  hot  chalk-down, 

I  hate  the  startling  quiet  of  the  scene, 

And  long  to  hear  the  gay  glad  hum  of  town : 
My  garden  be  the  garden  of  the  Graces, 

Flowers  full  of  smiles,  with  fashion  for  their  queen, 
My  pleasant  fields  be  crowds  of  joyous  faces, 

The  brilliant  rout,  the  concert,  and  the  ball, 

These  be  my  joys  in  endless  carnival ! 
For  I  do  loathe  that  sickening  solitude, 

That  childish  hunting  up  of  flies  and  weeds, 
Or  worse,  the  company  of  rustics  rude, 

Whose  only  hopes  are  bound  in  clods  and  seeds; 
Out  on  it !   let  me  live  in  town  delight, 
And  for  your  tedious  country-mornings  bright, 

Give  me  gay  London  with  its  noon  and  night. 


450  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 


WORLDLY    AND'  WEALTHY. 

IDOLATOR  of  gold,  I  love  thee  not, 

The  orbits  of  our  hearts  are  sphered  afar, 

In  lieu  of  tuneful  sympathies,  I  wot ; 

My  thoughts  and  thine  are  all  at  utter  jar, 

Because  thou  judgest  by  what  men  have  got, 
Heeding  but  lightly  what  they  do,  or  are : 
Alas,  for  thee !   this  lust  of  gold  shall  mar, 

Like  leprous  stains,  the  tissue  of  thy  lot, 
And  drain  the  natural  moisture  from  thy  heart; 
Alas  !   thou  reckest  not  how  poor  thou  art, 

Weighed  in  the  balances  of  truth,  how  vain; 
O  wrecking  mariner,  fling  out  thy  freight, 
Or  founder  with  the  heavily  sinking  weight ; 

No  longer  dote  upon  thy  treasured  gain, 

Or  quick,  and  sure  to  come,  the  hour  shall  be, 
When  MENE  TEKEL  shall  be  sentenced  thee. 


WISE     AN.D     WORTHY. 

RATHER  be  thou  my  counsellor  and  friend, 

Good  man,  though  poor,  whose  treasure  with  thy  heart 

Is  stored  and  set  upon  that  better  part, 
Choice  of  thy  wisdom,  without  waste  or  end, 
And  full  of  profits  that  to  pleasures  tend : 

How  cheerful  is  thy  face,  how  glad  thou.  art! 
Using  the  world  with  all  its  bounteous  store 

Of  richest  blessings,  comforts,  loves,  and  joys, 
Which  thine  all-healthy  hunger  prizeth  more 

Than  the  gorged  fool  whom  sinful  surfeit  cloys ; 
Still,  not  forgetful  of  thy  nobler  self, 

The  breath  divine  within  thee,  —  but  with  care 
Cherishing  the  faint  spark  that  glimmereth  there 
Nor,  by  Brazilian  slavery  to  pelf, 

Plunging  thy  taper  into  poisoned  air 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS. 


LIBERALITY. 

GIVE  while  thou  canst,  it  is  a  godlike  thing, 
Give  what  thou  canst,  thou  shalt  not  find  it  loss, 

Yea,  sell  and  give,  much  gain  such  barteries  bring, 
Yea,  all  thou  hast,  and  get  fine  gold  for  dross  : 

Still,  see  thou  scatter  wisely;   for  to  fling 

Good  seed  on  rocks,  or  sands,  or  thorny  ground, 
Were  not  to  copy  Him,  whose  generous  cross 
Hath  this  poor  world  with  rich  salvation  crowned. 
And  when  thou  lookest  on  woes  and  want  arofnd, 

Knowing  that  God  hath  lent  thee  all  thy  wealth, 
That  better  it  is  to  give  than  to  receive, 

That  riches  cannot  buy  thee  joy  nor  health, — 
Why  hinder  thine  own  welfare  ?   thousands  grieve^ 
Whom  if  thy  pitying  hand  .will  but  relieve, 
It  shall  for  thine  own  wear  the  robe  of  gladness  weave. 


MEANNESS. 

• 
WHERE  vice  is  virtue,  thou  art  still  despised, 

O  petty  loathsome  love  of  hoarded  pelf; 
E'en  in  the  pit  where  all  things  vile  are  prized, 

Still  is  there  found  in  Lucifer  himself 
Spirit  enough  to  hate  thee,  sordid  thing : 

Thank  Heaven !   I  own  in  thee  nor  lot  nor  part ; 
And  though  to  many  a  sin  and  folly  cling 

The  worse  weak  fibres  of  my  weedy  heart,- 
Yet  to  thy  withered  lips  and  snake-like  eye     . 

My  warmest  welcome  is,  Depart,  depart, 

For  to  my  sense  so  foul  and  base  thou  art, 
I  would  not  stoop  to  thee  to  reach  the  sky: 

Aroint  thee,  filching  hand,  and  heart  of  stone! 

Be  this  thy  doom,  with  conscience  left  alone, 

Learn  how  like  death  thou  art,  unsated  selfish  one. 


452  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


ANCIENT. 

Mr  sympathies  are  all  with  times  of  old, 
I  cannot  live  with  things. of  yesterday, 
Upstart  and  flippant,  foolish,  weak,  and  gay, 
But  spirits  cast  in  a  severer  mould, 
Of  solid  worth,  like  elemental  gold : 
I  love  to  wander  o'er  the  shadowy  past, 

Dreaming  of  dynasties  long  swept  away, 
And,  seem  to  find  myself  almost  the  last 
•     Of  a  time-honored  race,  decaying  fast : 
For  I  can  dote  upon  the  rare  antique, 

Conjuring  up  what  story  it  might  tell, 
The  bronze,  or  bead,  or  coin,  or  quaint  relique ; 

And  in  a  desert  could  delight  to  dwell 
Among  vast  ruins,  — •  Tadmor's  stately  halls, 
Old  Egypt's  giant  fanes,  or  Babel's  mouldering  walls. 


MODERN. 

BEHOLD,  I  stand  upon  a  speck  of  earth, 
To  work  the  works  allotted  me,  —  and  die, 

Glad  among  toils  to  snatch  a  little  mirth, 
And,  when  I  must,  unmurmuring  down  to  lie 

In  the  same  soil  that  gave  me  food  and  birth : 
For  all  that  went  before  me,  what  care  I  ? 
The  past,  the  future,  —  these  are  but  a  dream ; 

I  want  the  tangible  good  of  present  worth, 

And  heed  not  wisps  of  light  that  dance  and  gleam 
Over  the  marshes  of  the  foolish  past : 
We  are  a  race  the  best,  because  the  last, 

Improving  all,  and  happier  day  by  day, 

To  think  our  chosen  lot  hath  not  been  cast 

In  those  old  puerile  times,  discreetly  swept  away. 


CONTRASTED    SONNETS.  453 


SPIRIT. 

THROW  me  from  this  tall  cliff,  —  my  wings  are  strong, 

The  hurricane  is  raging  fierce  and  high, 
My  spirit  pants,  and  .all  in  heat  I  long 

To  struggle  upward  to  a  purer  sky, 

And  tread  the  clouds  above  me  rolling  by:  — 
Lo^thus  into  the  buoyant  air  I  leap, 

Confident,  and  exulting,  at  a  bound, 
Swifter  than  whirlwinds,  happily  to  sweep 

On  fiery  wing,  the  reeling  world  around  : 
Off  with  my  fetters  !  —  who  shall  hold  me  back  f 
My  path  lies  there,  —  the  lightning's  sudden  track, 
O'er  the  blue  concave  of  the  fathomless  deep,  — 

Thus  can  I  spurn  matter,  and  space,  and  time, 

Soaring  above  the  universe  sublime. 


MATTER. 

IN  the  deep  clay  of  yonder  sluggish  flood 
The  huge  behemoth  makes  his  ancient  lair, 
And  with  slow  caution  heavily  wallows  there, 

Moving  above  the  stream,  a  mound  of  mud  ! 
And  near  him,  stretching  to  the  river's  edge, 

In  dense  dank  grandeur,  stands  the  silent  wood, 
Whose  unp'ierced  jungles,  choked  with  rotting  sedg?, 

Prison  the  damp  air  from  the  freshening  breeze  : 
Lo  !   the  rhinoceros  comes  down  this  way, 

Thundering  furiously  on,  —  and  snorting  sees 
The  harmless  monster  at  his  awkward  play, 

And  rushes  on  him  from  the  crashing  trees,  — 
A  dreadful  shook  as  when  the  Titans  hurled 
Against  high  Jove  the  Himalayan  world. 


454  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


LIFE. 

0  LIFE,  O  glorious !   sister-twin  of  light, 
Essence  of  Godhead,  energizing  love, 

Hail,  gentle  conqueror  of  dead  cold  night, 
Hail,  on  the  waters  kindly-broodiog  dove . 

1  feel  thee  near  me,  in  me :   thy  strange  might 

Flies  through  my  bones  like  fire,  —  my  hea<  beats  high 
With  thy  glad  presence :    pain,  and  fear,  and  care 

Hide  from  the  lightning  laughter  of  mine  eye; 
No  dark  unseasonable  terrors  dare 

Disturb  me,  revelling  in  the  luxury, 
The  new-found  luxury  of  life  and  health, 

This  blithesome  elasticity  of  limb, 

Tliis  pleasure,  in  which  all  my  senses  swim, 
This  deep  outpouring  of  a  creaturejs  wealth ! 


DEATH. 

GHASTLY  and  weak,  O  dreadful  monarch,  Death, 
With  failing  feet  I  near  thy  silent  realm, 

Upon  my  brain  strikes  chill  thine  icy  breath, 
My  fluttering  heart  thy  terrors  overwhelm. 

Thou  sullen  pilot  of  life's  crazy  bark, 

How  treacherously  thou  puttest  down  the  helm 
Just  where  smooth  eddies  hide  -the  sunken  rock ; 

While  close  behind  follows  the  hungry  shark 
Snuffing  his  meal  from  far,  swift  with  black  fin 
The  foam  dividing, — La!   that  sudden  shock 

Splits  my  frail  skiff;   upon  the  billows  dark, 

A  drowning  wretch,  awhile  struggling  I  float, 
Till,  just  as  I  had  hoped  the  wreck  to  win, 

I  feel  thy  bony  fingers  clutch  my  throat 


•          ELLEN    GRAY.  465 

ELLEN    GRAY. 

THE    EXCUSE    OF    AN    UNFORTUNATE. 

A  STARLESS  night,  and  bitter  cold ; 
The  low  dun  clouds  all  wildly  rolled, 

Scudding  before  the  blast ; 
And  cheerlessly  the  frozen  sleet 
Adown  the  melancholy  street   / 

Swept  onward  thick  and  fast ; 

When,  crouched  at  an  unfriendly  door, 
Faint,  sick,  and  miserably  .poor, 

A  silent  woman  sate ; 
She  might  be  young,  and  had  bee*n  fair, 
But  from  her  eye  looked  out  despair 

All  dim  and  desolate. 

Was  I  to 'pass  her  coldly  by, 
Leaving  her  there  to  pine  and  die, 

The  live-long  freezing  night? 
The  secret  answer  of  my  heart 
Told  me  I  had  not  done  my  part 

In  flinging  her  a  mite.  , 

She  looked  her  thanks,  —  then  drooped  her  head  ; 
"  Have  you  no  friend,  no  home  ? "  I  said : 

"Get  up,  poor  creature,  come, 
You  seem  unhappy,  faint,  and  weak, 
How  can  I  serve  or  save  you,  —  speak, 

Or  whither  help  you  home  ?  " 

"Alas,  kind  sir,  poor  Ellen  Gray 
Has  had  no  friend  this  many  a  day, 

And,  but  that  you  seem  kind, — 
She  has  not  found  the  face  of  late 
That  looked  on  her  in  aught  but  hate, 

And  still  despairs  to  find 


456  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

"And  for  a  home,  —  would  I  had  none! 
The  home  I  have,  a  wicked  one, 

They  will  not  let  me  in, 
Till  I  can  fee  my  jailer's  hands 
With  the  vile  tribute  she  demands  • 

The  wages  of  my  sin: 

"I  see  your  goodness  on  me  frown; 
Yet  hear  the  veriest  wretch  on  town 

While  yet  in  life  she  may 
Tell  the  sad  story  of  her  grief, — 
Though  heaven  alone  can  bring  relief 

To  guilty  Ellen  Gray. 

"My  mother  died  when  I  was  born: 
And  I»was  flung,  a  babe  forlorn, 

Upon  the  work-house  floor ; 
My  father,  —  would  I  knew  him  not ! 
A  squalid  thief,  a  reckless  sot,  — 

I  dare  not  tell  you  more.- 

"  And  I  was  bound  an  infant  slave, 
With  no  one  near  to  love,  or  save 

From  cruel,  sordid  men; 
A  friendless,  famished  factory  child, — 
Morn,  noon,  and  night,  I  toiled  and  toiled 

Yet  was  I  happy  then ; 

"My  heart  was  pure,  my  cheek  was  fair,  - 
Ah,  M'ould  to  God  a  cancer  there 

Had  eaten  out  its  way ! 
For  soon  my  tasker,  dreaded  man, 
With  treacherous  wiles  and  art  began 

To  mark  me  for  his  prey. 

"And  month  by  month  he  vainly  strove 
To  light  the  flame  of  lawless  love 


ELLEX    GRAY.  457 

In  my  most  loathing  breast; 
Oh,  how  I  feared  and  hated  him, 
So  basely  kind,  so  smoothly  grim, 

My  terror  and  my  pest ! 

Till  one  day  at  that  prison-mill, -•- 

***** 
***** 
***** 
***** 


"  Thenceforward  drooped  my  stricken  head ; 
I  lived,  —  I  died,  a  life  of  dread, 

Lest  they  should  guess  my  shame ; 
But  weeks  and  months  would  pass  away, 
And  all  to  soon  the  bitter  day 

Of  wrath  and  ruin  came ; 

"  I  could  not  hide  my  altered  form ; 
Then  on  my  head  the  fearful  storm 

Of  jibe  and  insult  burst: 
Men  only  mocked  me  for  my  fate, 
But  woman's  scorn  and  woman's  hate 

Me,  their  poor  sister,  curst 

s 

u  O  woman,  had  thy  kindless  face 
But  gentler  looked  on  my  disgrace, 

And  healed  the  wounds  it  gave !  — 
I  was  a  drowning,  sinking  wretch, 
Whom  no  one  loved  enough  to  stretch 

A  finger  out  to  save. 

"  They  tore  my  baby  from  my  heart, 
And  locked  it  in  some  "hole  apart, 

Where  I  could  hear  it  cry, 
Such  was  the  horrid  poor-house  law ;  — 
Its  little  throes  I  never  saw, 

Although  I  heard  it  die ! 
20 


I 

MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

"Still  the  stone  hearts  that  ruled  the  place 
Let  me  not  kiss  my  darling's  face, 
My  little  darling  dead ; 

0  I  was  mad  with  rage  and  hate, 
And  yet  all  sullenly  I  sate, 

And  riot  a  word  I  said. 

"  I  would  not  stay,  I  could  not  bear 
To  breathe  the  same  infected  air 
That  killed  my  precious  child; 

1  watched  my  time,  and  fled  a\v^y  — 
The  livelong  night,  the  livelong  day, 

With  fear  and  anguish  wild: 

"  Till  down  upon  a  river's  bank, 
Twenty  leagues  off,  fainting,  I  sank, 

And  only  longed  to  die ; 
I  had  no  hope,  no  home,  no  friend, 
No  God !  —  I  sought  but  for  an  end 

To  life  and  misery. 

"Ah,  lightly  heed  the  righteous  few, 
How  little  to  themselves  is  due, 

But  all  things  given  to  them; 
Yet  the  unwise,  because  untaught, 
The  wandering  sheep,  because  unsought, 

They  heartlessly  condemn 

"  And  little  can  the  untempted  dream, 
While  gliding  smoothly  on  life's  stream 

They  keep  the  letter-laws ; 
What  would  they  be,  if,  tost  like  me 
Hopeless  upon  lifs's  barren  sea, 

They  know  how  hunger  gnaws. 

"  I  was  half  starved,  T  tried  in  vain 
To  get  me  work  my  bread  to  gain ; 


ELLEN    GRAY.  459 

Before  me  flew  my  shame; 
Cold  Charity  put  up' her  purse, 
And  none  looked  on  me  but  to  curse 
•  The  child  of  evil  fame. 

"Alas,  why  need  I  count  by  links 
Thfe  heavy  lengthening  chain  that  sinks 

My  heart,  my  soul,  my  all  ? 
I  still  was  fair,  though  hope  was  dead, 
And  so  I  sold  myself  for  bread, 

And  lived  upon  my  fall : 

"  Now  was  I  reckless,  bold,  and  bad, 
My  love  was  hate,  —  I  grew  half-mad 

With  thinking  on  my  wrongs ; 
Disease,  and  pain,  and  giant-sin 
Rent  body  and  soul,  and  raged  within! 

Such  need  to  guilt  belongs. 

"  And  what  I  was,  —  such  still  am  I ; 
Afraid  to  live,  unfit  to  die, — 

And  yet  I  hoped  I  might 
Meet  my  best  friend  and  lover  —  Death, 
In  the  fierce  frowns  and  frozen  breath 

Of  this  December  night. 

"My  tale  is  told:   my  heart  grows  cold; 
I  cannot  stir,  —  yet,  —  kind  good  sir, 

I  know  that  you  will  stay, — 
And  God  is  kinder  e'en  than  you, — 
Can  He  not  look  with  pity  too, 

On  wretched  Ellen  Gray?" 

Her  eye  was  fixed ;  she  said  no  more, 
Eut  propped  against  fhe  cold  street-door 

She  leaned  her  fainting  head; 
One  moment  she  looked  up  and. smiled 
Full  of  new  hope,  as  Mercy's  child, 

—  And  the  poor  girl  was  aead. 


460  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


THE    AFRICAN    DESERT. 

• 

SYNOPSIS. 

By  contemplating  a  guilty  death-bed,  the  mind  is  brought  to  that  state  m  which  it  can 
best  picture  the  desolaiion  of  nature.  —  The  Desert.  —  Allusion  to -the  fable  of  the 
cranes  and  pigmies.  —  The  contrast  afforded  by  surrounding  countries.  —  The.  omni- 
present God.  —  Man  regarded  as  an  intruder  on  the  wastes  of  nature.  —  Exemplified 
by  the  journey  and  fate  of  a  caravan  crossing  the  desert.  —  In  detail.  —  An  African 
sunrise.  — Approach  of  the  caravan.  —  Solitude.  —  The  father  and  child.  —  Mirage. — 
The  well  in  sight.  —  The  Simoom.  —  The  stillness  that  succeeds. 

.   Go,  child  of  pity;  watch  the  sullen  glare 
That  lights  the  haggard  features  of  despair, 
As  upon  dying  guilt's  distracted  sight 
Rise  the  black  clouds  of  everlasting  night ; 
Drink  in  the  fevered  eye-ball's  dismal  ray, 
And  gaze  again,  —  and  turn  not  yet  away, 
Drink  in  its  anguish,  till  thy  heart  and  eye 
Reel  with  the  draught  of  that  sad  lethargy; 
Till  gloom  with  chilling  fears  thy  soul  congeal. 
And  on  thy  bosom  stamp  her  leaden  seal; 
Till  Melancholy  flaps  her  heavy  wings 
Above  thy  fancy's  light  imaginings, 
And  Sorrow  wraps  thee  in  her  sable  shroud 
And  Terror  in  a  gathering  thunder-cloud! 

Go,  call  up  Darkness  from  his  dread  abode, 

Bid  Desolation  fling  her  curse  abroad, 

—  Then  gaze  around  on  nature  !  —  Ah,  how  dear, 

How  widow-like  she  sits  in  sadness  here : 

Lost  are  the  glowing  tints,  the  softening  shades, 

Her  sunny  meadows,  and  her  greenwood  glades ; 

No  grateful  flower  hath  gemmed  its  mother-earth, 

Rejoicing  in  the  blessedness  of  birth ; 

No  blithesome  lark  has  waked  the  drowsy  day, 

No  sorrowing  dews  have  wept  themselves  away ; 

Faded, — the  smiles  that  dimpled  in  her  vales; 

Scattered,  the  fragrance  of  the  spicy  gales 


THE    AFRICAN    DESERT.  461 

That  dewed  her  locks  with  odore,  as  they  swept 
The  waving  groves,  or  in  the  rose-bud  slept! 

Is  this  the  desert?  this  the  blighted  plain 
Where  Silence  holds  her  melancholy  reign, — 
Where  foot  of  daring  mortal  scarce  hath  trod, 
But  all  around  is  solitude,  —  and  God ! 
And  where  the  sandy  *  billows  overwhelm 
All  but  young  Fancy's  visionary  realm, 
In  which,  beneath  the  red  moon's  sickly  glance, 
Fantastic  forms  prolong  the  midnight  dance, 
And  pigmy  warriors,  f  marshalled  on  the  plains, 
Shout  high  defiance  to  the  invading  cranes  ? 
Regions  of  sorrow,  —  darkly  have  ye  frowned 
Amidst  a  sunny  world  of  smiles  around  ; 
Luxurious  Persia,  bowered  in  rosy  bloom, 
Breathes  the  sweet  air  of  Araby's  perfume, 
And  where  Italian  suns  in  glory  shine, 
To  the  green  olive  clings  the  tendrilled  vine : 
In  yon  soft  bosom  of  Iberia's  vales, 
The  orange-blossom  scents  the  lingering  gales, 
That  waft  its  sweets  to  where  Madeira's  plain 
With  Emerald  beauty  gems  the  western  main: 
The  winds  that  o'er  the  rough  ^Egean  sweep, 
Tamed  into  zephyrs",  on  its  islands  sleep, 
And  where  rich  Delta  drinks  the  swelling  Nile, 
Auspicious  Ceres  spreads  her  golden  smile. 
But  on  Sahara  |  Death  has  set  his  throne, 
And  reigns  in  su'len  majesty  alone: 
Unfurled  on  high  above  the  desert-king, 
The  red§  simoom  spreads  forth  its  fiery  wing; 
The  spirits  of  the  storm  his  bidding  wait, 
Gigantic  shadows  swell  his  awful  state, 

*  "The  sands  roll  onward  in  waves  like  those  of  a  troubled  sea."  —  Goldsmith's 
Animated  Nature,  vol  i.,  p  13. 

t  Some  account  of  the  Pigmies  may  be  found  in  Philostratus.  —  Icon,  ii.,  c.  22. 

t  Saharaj  or  Zara,  the  Great  Desert  of  Africa. 

J  "That  extreme  redness  in  the  air,  a  sure  presage  of  the  coming  of  the  simoom."  — 
Bruce,  vol.  iv.,  p.  008. 


462  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

And  circling1  furies  hover  round  his  head, 
To  crown  with  flames  the  tyrant  of  the  dead ! 
The  desert  shrank  beneath  him,  as  he  passed, 
Borne  on  the  burning  pinions  of  the  blast ; 
He  breathed,  —  and  Solitude  sat  pining  there  ; 
He  spake,  —  and  Silence  hushed  the  listening  air ; 
He  frowned,  —  and  blighted  nature  scarce  could  fly 
The  lightning  glances  of  her  monarch's  eye; 
But  where  he  looked  in  withering  fury  down, 
A  dying  desert  knit  its  giant  frown ! 

Desolate  wilds,  —  creation's  barren  grave, 

Where  dull  as  Lethe  rolls  the  desert-wave, 

How  sparingly  with  warm  existence  rife 

Have  ye  rejoiced  in  love,  or  teemed  witrl  life. 

Can  it  then  be  in  solitudes  so  drear, 

That  utter  nothing  has  its  dwelling  here  ?  — 

Hence,  —  thought  of  darkness"!  —  o'er  the  sandy  flood 

Broods  the  great  Spirit  of  a  present  God : 

HE  is,  where  other  being  may  not  be : 

Space  cannot  bind  Him,  —  nor  infinity  ! 

Deeper  than  thought  has  ever  dared  to  stray, 

Higher  than  fancy  winged  her  wondering  way, 

Beyond  the  beaming  of  the  furthest  star, 

Beyond  the  pilgrim-comet's  distant  car, 

Beyond  all  worlds,  and  glorious  suns  unseen, 

HE  is,  and  will  be,  and  has  ever  been  ! 

Nor  less,  —  where  the  huge  iceberg  lifts  its  head, 

Dim  as  a  dream,  from  ocean's  polar  bed  ; 

Or  where  in  softer  climes  creation  glows, 

And  Paphos  blushes  from  its  banks  of  rose, 

Or  where  fierce  suns  the  panting  desert  sear, — 

HE  is,  and  was,  and  ever  will  be,  HERE  ! 

But  would  thy  daring  spirit,  child  of  man, 
The  secret  chambers  of  the  desert  scan, 
Curtained  with  flames,  and  tenanted  by  death,    " 
Fanned  by  the  tempest  of  Sirocco's  breath  ? 


THE    AFRICA*!'  DESERT.  46* 

With  crested  Azrael*  shall  a  mortal  strive, 
Or  breathe  the  gales  of  pestilence,  and  live  ? 
O  then,  let  avarice  his  hand  refrain, 
Nor  tempt  the  billows  of  that  fiery  main; 
Let  patience,  toil,  and  couraga,  nobly  dare 
Far  other  deeds  than  fruitless  labors  there ; 
Let  dauntless  enterprise,  with  generous  zeal, 
Toil,  not  unlaurelled,  for  her  fellows'  weal, 
But  be  the  howling  wilderness  untrod, 
And  trackless  still,  Sahara's  barren  flood. 
Lo,  from  the  streaming  east,  a  blaze  of  light 
Has  swept  to  distant  shores  astonished  night ; 
Darkness  has  snatch'd  his  spangled  robe  away, 
And  in  full  glory  shines  the  new-born  day ;  \ 
Rejoice  ye  flowery  vales,  —  ye  verdant  isles 
With  the  glad  sunbeams  weave  your  rosy  smiles, 
The  bridegroom  of  the  earth  looks  down  in  love, 
And  blooms  in  freshened  beauty  from  above ; 
Ye  waiting  dews,  leap  to  that  warm  embrace, 
With  fragrant  incense  bathe  his  blushing  face, 
Thou  earth  be  robed  in  .joy  !  —  But  one  sad  plain 
Exults  not,  smiles  not,  to  the  morn  again: 
Soon  as  the  sun  is  all  in  glory  drest 
The  conscious  desert  heaves  J  its  troubled  breast 
Like  one,  aroused  to  ceaseless  misery, 
That,  ever  dying,  strives  once  more  —  to  die. 
And  can  Sahara  weep?  —  with  sudden  blaze 
Deep  in  her  bosom  pierce  the  cruel  rays, 
But  never  thence  one  tributary  stream 
Shall  soar  aloft  to  quench  the  maddening  beam 
Tearless  in  agony,  fixt  in  grief,  alone, 
Pines  the  sad  daughter  of  the  torrid  zone, 
A  rocky  monument  of  anguish  deep, 
The  Niobe  of  Nature  cannot  weep! 


*  Azr'iel,  the  angel  of  death. 
t  A  morning-  near  the  equator  has  no  twilight. 

t  "The  solar  beams  causing  the  dust  of  the  desert  (as  they  emphatically  cal!  it)  to  riso 
md  float  through  trie  air."  —  Pottinger's  Travels  to  Beloochistan,  p.  133. 


464  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Yet  from  her  bosom  steams  the  sandy  cloud, 
And  heavily  waves  above  —  a  lurid  shroud, 
Dense  as  the  wing  of  sorrow,  flapping  o'er 
The  withered  heart,  that  may  not  blossom  more. 

Faint  o'er  that  burning  desert,  faint  and  slow, 
Failing  of  limb,  and  pale  with  looks  of  woe, 
Parched  by  the  hot  Siroc,  and  fiery  ray, 
The  wearied  kaffle  *  winds  its  toilsome  way, 
'Tis  long,  long  since  the  panther  bounded  by, 
And  howled,  and  gazed  upon  them  wistfully ;  f 
Long  since  the  monarch  lion  from  his  lair 
Arose,  and  thundered  to  the  ^stagnant  air: 
No  wandering  ostrich,  with  extended  wing, 
Flaps  o'er  the  sands,  to  seek  the  distant  spring ; 
Bounding  from  rock  J  to  rock,  with  curious  scan 
No  wild  gazelle  surveys  the  stranger,  man; 
Nor  does  the  famished  tiger's  lengthening  roar 
Speak  to  the  winds  and  wake  the  echoes  more. 

* 

But  .o'er  these  realms  of  sorrow,  drear  and  vast, 
In  hollow  dirges  moans  the  desert  blast, 
Or  breathing  o'er  the  plain,  in  smothered  wrath, 
Howls  to  the  skulls  §  that  whiten  on  the  path. 
And  as  with  heavy  tramp  they  toil  along, 
Is  heard  no  more  the  cheering  Arab  song; 
No  more  the  wild  Bedouin's  joyous  shriek 
With  startling  homage  greets  his  wandering  sheik ; 
Only  the  muttered  curse,  or  whispered  prayer,. 
Or  deep  death-rattle,  wakes  the  sluggish  air.  ' 


*  The  kafile  or  caravan. 

t  These  animals  are  mentioned  as  inhabiting  the  skirts  of  the  desert,  but  not  found  in 
;he  interior,  by  Mungo  Par!;,  vol.  i.,  p.  112. 

J  Bufibn,  Hist.  Nat.,  vol.  vii ,  p.  243  —  "  Une  lerre  moi  te,  fee.,  laqnelle  ne  presentc  qua 
des  rochers  dehorn  on  rcnverses." 

J  Skeletons  in  the  desert,  Deuliain  and  Clapperton,  vol.  i.,  pp.  130,  131 ;  also  Buflbn,  in 
the  passage  above  quoted.  —  '•  Uue  terre  nun  to,  el  pour  aiusi  diru  ecorcliee,  par  lea  vents, 
laquel/e  ne  preseute  que,  Ac. —  des  ossemeu'.s/' 


THE    AFRICAN    DESERT.  4&j 

Behold  one  here,  who  till  to-day  has  been 

A  father,  and  with  bursting  bosom  seen 

His  last,  his  cherishe'd  one,  whose  waning  eye 

Smiled  only  resignation,  droop  and  die! 

Parched  by  the  heat,  those  lips  are  curled  and  pale, 

As  rose-leaves  withered  in  the  northern  gale; 

Her  eye  no  more  its  silent  love  shall  speak, 

No  flush  of  life  shall  mantle  on  her  cheek; 

Yet  with  a  frenzied  fondness  to  his  child 

The  father  clung,  and  thought  his  darling  smiled; 

Ah,  yes!   'tis  death  that  o'er  her  beauty  throws  " 

That  marble  smile  of  deep  and  dread  repose. 

What  thrilling  shouts  are  these  that  rend  the  sky, 
Whence  is  the  joy  that  lights  the  sunken  eye  ? 
On,  on,  they  speed,  their  burning  thirst  to  slake 
In  the  blue  *  waters  of  yon  rippled  lake,  — 
Or  must  they  still  those  maddening  pangs  assuage 
In  the  sand-billows  of  the  false  mirage  ? 
Lo,  the  fair  phantom    melting  to  the  wind, 
Leaves  but  the  sting  of  baffled  bliss  behind. 

Hope  smiles  again,  as  with  instinctive  haste,  f 
The  panting  camels  rush  along  the  waste, 
And  snuff  the  grateful  breeze,  that  sweeping«Jby     % 
t         Wafts  its  cool  fragrance  through  the  cloudless  sky, 
Swift  as  the  steed  that  feels  the  slackened  rein, 
And  flies  impetuous  o'er  the  sounding  plain, 
Eager,  as  bursting  from  an  Alpine  source, 
The  winter  torrent  in  its  headlong  course, 
Still  hasting  on,  the  weaiiftd  band  behold 
—  The  green  oase,  an  emerald  couched  in  gold ! 
And  now  the  curving  rivulet  they  descry, 
That  bow  of  hope  upon  a  stormy  sky,} 

*  For  a  description  of  the  mirage,  see  Capt.  Lyon's  Travels,  p.  347,  and  Burckhardt's 
Nubia,  p.  193.  —  "Its  color  is  of  the  purest  azure." 

t  The  rush  of  a  caravan  to  a  stream  in  the  desert  is  well  described  in  Buckingham1* 
Mesopotamia,  vol  li ,  p.  8 

t  Brace's  Travels,  vol.  iv,,  p.  559.  —  "  The  simoom—  I  saw  from  the  S.  E.  a  li&za 

20* 


466  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

Now  ranging  jts  luxuriant  banks  of  green, 

In  silent  rapture  gaze  upon  the  scene : 

His  graceful  arms  the  palm  was  waving  there, 

Caught  in  the  tall  acacia's  tangled  hair, 

While  in  fe'stoons  across  his  branches  slung 

The  gay  koss6m  in  scarlet  tassels  hung; 

The  flowering  colocynth  had  studded  round 

Jewels  of  promise  o'er  the  joyful  ground, 

And  where  the  srnile  of  day  burst  on  the  stream, 

The  trembling  waters  glittered  in  the  beam. 

It  comes,  the  blast  of  death !   that  sudden  glare 
Tinges  with  purple  hues  the  stagnant  air: 
Fearful  in  silence,  o'er  the  heaving  strand 
Sweeps  *  the  wild  gale,  and  licks  the  curling  sand, 
While  o'er  the  vast  Sahara  from  afar 
Rushes  the  tempest  in  his  winged  car: 
Swift  from  their  bed  the  flame-like  billows  rise, 
Whirling  and  surging  to  the  copper  skies, 
As  when  Briareus  lifts  his  hundred  arms, 
Grasps  at  high  heaven,  and  fills  it  with  alarms ; 
In  eddying  chaos  madly  mixt  on  high 
Gigantic  pillars  dance  f  along  the  sky, 
Or  stalk  in  awful  slowness  through  the  gloom, 
«      Of  track  the  coursers  of  the  dread  simoom, 
Or  clashing  in  mid  air,  to  ruin  hurled, 
Fall  as  the  fragments  of  a  shattered  world ! 

Hushed  is  the  tempest,  — \  desolate  the  plain, 
Stilled  are  the  billows  of  that  troubled  mam ; 


come,  in  color  like  the  purple  part  of  a  rainbow,  &c.,  a  kind  of  blush  upon  the  air,  a 
meieor,  or  purple  haze." 

*  %Tp6ii@i>t  it  K&VIV  ciXiairovtri.  —  JEsch.  Prom.  v.  1091. 

t  Bruce  (as  above).  "  We  were  here  at  once  surprised  and  terrified  by  a  sight  surely 
one  of  the  most  magnificent  in  the  world.  In  ihut  vast  expanse  of  desert,  from  W.  to 
N.  W.  of  us,  we  saw  a  number  of  prodigious  pillars  of  sand,  at  limes  moving  with  great 
celerity,  at  others  stalking  on  wall  a  majestic  slowness;  at  intervals  we  thought  they 
were  coming  in  a  few  minutes  to  overwhelm  us,  &c.  Sometimes  they  were  broken  near 
the  middle,  as  if  struck  with  a  huge  cannon-shot."  See  also  Goldsmith's  An.  Nat.  vol.  i.} 
p.  363. 


THE    SUTTEES.  467 

As  if  the  voice  of  death  had  checked  the  storm, 
Each  sandy  wave  retains  its  sculptured  form  : 
And  all  is  silence,  —  save  the.  distant  blast 
That  howled,  and  mocked  the  desert  as  it  passed; 
And  all  is  solitude,  —  for  where  are  they, 
That  o'er  Sahara-  wound  their  toilsome  way? 
Ask  of  .the  heavens  above,  that  smile  serene, 
Ask  that  burnt  spot,'  no  more  of  lovely  green, 
Ask  of  the  whirlwind  in  its  purple  cloud, 
The  deseit  is  their  grave,  the  sand  their  shroud.* 


THE    SUTTEES. 


The  natural  beauty  of  Hindostan  contrasted  with,  iu  moral  depravity.  —  Approach  oft 
funeral  procession.  —  Hymn  of  the  Brahmins.  —  The  widow.  —  Her  early  history.  — 
The  scene  of  ihe  funeral  pile.  —  Enthusiastic  feelings  of  th«  victim.  —  The  pile  a 
fired,  —  Address  to  British  benevolence  in  behalf  of  the  benighted  Hindoos. 

O  GOLDEN  shores,  primeval  home  of  man, 
How  glorious  is  thy  dwelling,  Hindostan! 
Thine  are  these  smiling  valleys,  bright  with  bloom, 
Wild  woods,  and  sandal-groves,  that  breathe  perfume, 
Thine,  these  fair  skies,  —  where  morn's  returning  ray, 
Has  swept  the  starry  robe  of  night  away,f 
And  gilt  each  dome,  and  minaret,  and  tower, 
Gemmed  every  stream  and  tinted  every  flower. 
But  dark  the  spirit  within  thee  ;  —  from  old  time 
Still  o'er  th.ee  rolls  the  wheeling  flood  of  crime, 


*  Denham  and  Clapp.,  i  16.  "  The  overpowering-  effect  of  a  sudden  -sand-wind,  when 
near  the  close  of  the  desert,  often  destroys  a  whole  kafila  (caravan)  already  weakened 
by  latigue,  &c  "  —  and  p.  03 —  "  The  winds  scorch  as  they  pass;  and  bring  with  them 
billows  of  sand,  rolling  along  in  masses  frightfully  suffocating,  which  sometimes  swallow 
up  whole  caravans  and  armies." 

t  JEtCh.  Prom.  v.  24.     TTUK<\:iituv  vv$,  and  Orph.  Argon  1026,  dtrrpoxlruv  vff. 


468  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Still  o'er  thee  broods  the  curse  of  guiltless  blood, 
That  shouts  for  vengeance  from  thy  reeking  sod; 
Deep-flowing  Gangqs  in  his  rushy  bed 
Moans  a  sad  requiem  for  his  children  dead, 
'And,  wafted  frequent  on  the  passing  gale, 
Rises  the  orphan's  sigh,  —  the  widow's  wail. 
Hark,  tis  the  rolling  of  the  funeral  drum, 
The  white-robed  Brahmins  see,  they  come,  they  come, 
Bringing,  with  frantic  shouts,  and  torch,  and  trump, 
And  mingled  signs  of  melancholy  pomp, 
That  livid  corpse,  borne  solemnly  on  high  — 
And  yon  faint  trembling  victim,  doomed  to  die. 


Still,  as  with  measured  step  they  move  along, 
With  fiercer  joy  they  weave  the  mystic  song ; 
Eswara,*  crowned  with  forests,  thee  they  praise, 
Birmah,  to  thee  the  full-toned  chorus  raise  ; 
To  ocean,  —  where  the  loose  sail  mariners  furl, 
And  seek  in  coral  caves  the  virgin  pearl, 
And  to  the  source  of  Ganga's  sacred  streams, 
Bright  with  the  gold  of  Surya's  morning  beams, 
Where  on  her  lotus-throne  Varuna  sings, 
And  weeping  Peris  lave  their  azure  wings : 
They  shout  to  Kali,  of  the  red  right  hand, 
Bid  Aglys  toss  on  high  the  kindled  brand, 
And  far  from  Himalaya's  frozen  steep, 
In  whirlwind  car,  bid  dark  Pavaneh  sweep; 
They  chant  of  one  whom  Azra'el  waits  to  guide 
O'er  the  black  gulf  of  death's  unfathomed  tide  j 
Of  her,  whose  spotless  iife  to  Seeva  given, 
Bursts  for  her  lord  the  golden  gates  of  heaven, 
Of  her,  —  who  thus  in  dreadful  triumph  led, 
Dares  the  unhallowed  bridal  of  the  dead ! 


*  Eswara,  goddess  of  Nature.  Surya,  the  sun.  Varuna,  a  water-nymph.  Peris,  or 
spirits  of  a  certain  grade,  are  excluded  from  paradise,  from  a  gale  of  which  Ganges 
flows.  Kali,  goddess  of  murder  Aglys,  god  of  fire.  Pavaneh,  of  wind.  See  Mao* 
rice's  Indian  Antiquities. 


THE    SUTTEES.  489 

And  there  in  silent  fear  she  stands  alone, 
The  desolate,  unpitied,  widowed  one : 
Too  deeply  taught  in  life's  sad  tale  of  grief, 
In  the  calm  house  of  death  she  hopes  relief; 
For  few  the  pleasures  India's  daughter  knows, 
A  child  of  sorrow,  nursed  in  want  and  woes. 
Curst  from  the  womb,  how  oft  a  mother's  fear 
In  silence  o'er  thee  dropt  the  bitter  tear, 
Lest  a  stern  sire  to  Ganga's  holy  wave 
Should  madly  consecrate  the  life  he  gave: 
Cradled  on  superstition's  sable  wing 
'   In  joyless  gloom  passed  childhood's  early  spring, 
And  still,  ns  budded  fair  thy  youthful  mind, 
None  bade  thee  seek,  none  taught  thee,  truth  to  find; 
Poor  child!   that  never  raised  the  suppliant  prayer, 
Nor  looked  to  heaven  and  saw  a  Father  there. 
Untutored  by  religion's  gentle  sway 
To  love,  believe,  be  happy,  and  obey, 
Betrothed  in  artless  infancy  to  one 
Thy  warm  affections  never  beamed  upon, 
How  should'st  thou  smile,  when  ripe  in  beauty's  pride 
The  haughty  Rnjah  claimed  his  destined  bride? 
A  trembling  slave,  and  not  the  lovmg  wife, 
Passed  the  short  summer  of  thy  hapless  life  ;  * 
And  now  to  deck  that  bier,  that  pile  to  crown  ;f 
His  fiery  sepulchre  becomes  —  thine  own. 

And  must  it  be,  that  in  a  spot  so  fair 
Shall  rise  the  madden'd  shriek  of  wild  despair?    ' 
The  lovely  spot,  where  glows  in  every  part 
The  smile  of  nature  on  the  pomp  of  art; 
The  banian  spreads  its  hospitable  shade, 
The  bright  bird  warbles  in  the  leafy  glade, 
The  matted  palm,  and  wild  anana's  bloom, 
The  light  pagoda,  the  majestic  dome, 

•  On  the  miserable  state  of  woman  in  India,  see  Ward  on  Huulosian,  Letter  vt  In 
p.  96  ne  says.  "  beiwveu  eight  and  nine  hundred  widows  are  uurui  ever)  year  tu  Uio 
Presidency  of  Bengal  alone !  1813." 

t  Capt.  Marr's  Picture  of  India,  p.  235. 


470  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

With  emerald  plains,  and  ocean's  distant  blue, 

Cast  their  rich  tints  and  shadows  o'er  the  view. 

But  murder  here  must  wash  his  bloody  hand, 

And  superstition  shake  the  flaming  brand, 

And  terror  cast  around  an  eager  eye 

To  look  for  one  to  save,  —  where  none  is  nigh ! 

Far  other  incense  than  the  breath  of  day 

From  that  dark  corpse  must  waft  the  soul  away, 

Far  other  moans  than  of  the  muffled  drum 

Herald  the  lingering  spirit  to  its  home: 

Yes,  —  thou  must  perish ;  and  that  gentle  frame 

Must  struggle  frantic  with  the  circling'  flame, 

Constant  in  weal  and  woe,  for  death,  for  life, 

The  victim  widow,  as  the  victim  wife. 

Hoping,  despairing,  —  friendless,  and  forlorn, 

The  death  she  may  not  fly,  she  strives  to  scorn: 

Lists  to  the  tale  that  bright-winged  Peris  wait 

To  waft  her  to  Kalaisa's  crystal  gate,  — * 

Thinks  how  her  car  of  fire  shall  speed  along, 

Hailed  by  high  praises,  and  Kinnura's  song, — 

And  upward  gazing  in  a  speechless  trance, 

Darts  earnestly  the  keen  ecstatic  glance, 

Till  rapt  imagination  cleaves  the  sky, 

And  hope  delusive  points  the  way  —  to  die. 

Who  hath  not  felt,  —  in  some  celestial  hour, 

When  fear's  dark  thunder-clouds  have  ceased  to  lower, 

When  angels  beckon  on  the  fluttering  soul 

To  realms  of  bliss  beyond  her  mortal  goal, 

When  heavenly  glories  bursting  on  the  sight, 

The  raptured  spirit  bathes  in  seas  of  light, 

And  soars  aloft  upon  the  seraph's  wing,  — 

How  boldly  she  can  brave  death's  tyrant  sting? 

Thus  the  poor  girl's  enthusiastic  mind 

Revels  in  hope  of  blessings  undefined, 

Roams  o'er  the  flowers  of  earth,  the  joys  of  sense, 

And  frames  her  paradise  of  glory  thence : 

*  Kalaisa,  the  Indian  heaven.    Kinnura,  the  heavenly  ginger. 


THE    SUTTEES.  471 

For  oft  as  memory's  retrospective  eye 

Glanced  at  the  blighted  joys  of  days  gone  by, 

How  sadly  sweet  appeared  those  smiling  hours, 

When  hope  had  strewed  life's  thorny  path  with  flowers ; 

How  dark,  and  shadowed  o'er  with  fearful  gloom, 

The  unimagiiied  horrors  of  the  tomb ! 

When  she  remembered  all  her  joy  and  pain, 

And  in  a  moment  lived  her  life  again ; 

Each  sorrow  seemed  to  smile,  that  frowned  before, — 

Her  cup  of  blessing  then  was  running  o'er,  — 

Days  passed  in  grief,  beamed  now  in  hues  of  bliss, 

Fancy  gilt  them,  —  but  terror  clouded  this! 

Yet  swift  her  spirit,  resolutely  proud, 

Scorned  every  hope,  by  mercy  disallowed : 

The  priests  have  long  invoked  their  idol  god, 

The  murd'rous  pile,  his  altar,  thirsts  for  blood,  — 

A  horrid  silence  summons  to  the  grave, 

All  wait  for  her,  —  and  none  stands  forth  to  save. 

O  shall  she  tremble  now,  nor  die  the  same, — 

Shall  she  not  fearless  rush  into  the  flame  ? 

From  her  dark  eye  she  strikes  the  rising  tear, 

And  firmly  mounts  the  pile — a  widow's  bier. 

Instant,  with  'furious  zeal  and  willing  hands, 

Attendant  Brahmins  ply  the  ready  brands ; 

And  as  the  flames  are  raging  fierce  and  high, 

And  mount  in  rushing  columns  to  the  sky, 

Lest  those  wild  shrieks,  or  pity's  soft  appeal 

Should  rouse  one  hand  to  save,  one  heart  to  feel,* 

Madly  exulting  in  their  victim's  doom 

They  heap  with  fiendish  haste  her  fiery  tomb,  — 

Clash  the  loud  cymbals,  wake  the  trumpet's  note, 

Roll  the  deep  drum,  and  raise  the  deafening  shout, 

Till  in  dread  discord  through  the  startled  air 

Rise  the  mixt  yells  of  triumph  and  despair! 

Britain,  whose  pitying  hand  is  stretched  to  save 
From  despot's  iron  chain  the  writhing  slave; 

*  For  a  description  of  a  Suttee,  see  Capt.  MBIT,  as  above,  p.  243. 


472  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Where  freedom's  song,  at  wild  oppression's  shriek. 
Feel  the  hot  tear  bedew  the  manly  cheek, — • 
Where  the  kind  sympathies  of  social  life 
Sweeten  the  cup  to  one  no  more  a  wife, 
Where  misery  never  prayed  nor  sighed  in  vain,  — 
Shall  India's  widowed  daughters  bleed  again  ? 
Let  wreaths  more  glorious  deck  Britannia's  head 
Than  theirs,  who  fiercely  fought,  or  nobly  bled,  — 
Wreaths  such  as  happy  spirits  wear  above, 
Gemmed  with  the  tears  of  gratitude  and  love, 
Where  palm  and  olive,  twined  with  almond  bloom, 
Tell  of  triumphant  peace  and  mercy's  rich  perfume 
And  ye,  whose  young  and  kindling  hearts  can  feel 
The  prayer  of  pity  fan  the  flame  of  zeal, 
Trace  the  blqst  path  illustrious  Heber  trod, 
And  lead  the  poor  idolator  to  God ! 
Thus,  in  that  happy  land,  where  nature's  voice 
Sings  at  her  toil,  and  bids  the  world  rejoice, 
No  guiltless  blood  her  paradise  shall  stain, 
No  demon  rites  her  holy  courts  profane, 
No  howl  of  superstition  rend  the  air, 
No  widow's  cry,  no  orphan's  tear,  be  there,  — 
India  shall  cast  her  idol  gods  away, 
And  bless  the  promise  of  undying  day. 


A  CARMEN    S^SCULARE    FOR    CHRISTIAN 
ENGLAND. 

OH  THE  PATTERN  AND  IN  THE  METRE  OF  THAT  FOR  HEATHEIf 
ROME,  BY  HORACE. 

HOLT  Creator,  ruler  of  the  kingdoms, 
Glory  of  earth  and  heaven,  the  Almighty, 
Thou  to  be  praised  and  worshipped  never  ceasing, 
Hear  us,  Jehovah! 


A    CARMEX    S.ECULARE.  473 

While  as  in  days  of  innocence  aforetime, 
We,  with  the  choral  voice  of  supplication, 
Cry  to  the  one  great  Spirit  who  beholds  us, 
Save,  we  beseech  Thee! 

May  the  bright  sun,  thy  day-bestowing  servant, 
And  at  whose  setting  blushes  modest  even, 
Still  as  he  beams  successive  o'er  the  nations, 
Favor  old  England ! 

Kindly  may  nature,  providence  approving, 
Bless  our  homes  with  increase,  and  the  matrons 
Gently  relieving,  give  us  noble  sons  and 
Virtuous  daughters. 

Rivet  the  golden  links  of  happy  wedlock, 
And  be  the  social  sympathies  unbroken, 
While  on  her  lord  the  wedded  wife  depending, 
Smiles  for  him  only. 

Still  against  sect  and  heresy  protesting, 
Nursing  her  babes  with  motherly  affection, 
Loving  to  all,  and  tender,  may  the  Church  be 
Faithful  and  holy: 

And  if  Omniscience,  never  to  be  altered 
In  its  decrees,  be  destiny  presiding, 
May  Britain,  by  that  destiny  protected, 
Prosper  in  greatness. 

Pour  on  us  kindly  seasons,  that  abundant 
Be  the  rich  fruits  of  mother  earth,  and  healthy 
Still  be  the  gale  that  wafts  us  o'er  the  ocean, 
Conquerors  ever! 

Hear  us,  Redeemer,  hear  us,  ever-blessed! 
Hear,  Thou  that  dwellest  infinite  in  splendor, 
Hear   Thou  that  always  lovest  to  be  gracious, 
Rise  and  be  with  us! 


474  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

If  yet  thou  smilcst  favoring  on  England, 
If  yet  the  rose,  the  thistle,  and  the  shamrock, 
Form  a  sweet  garland  offered  on  thine  altar, 
Keep  us  united. 

Let  not  the  thief  or  murderer  infest  us, 
Let  not  the  base  incendiary  be  near  us, 
Let  not.  the  foul  adulterer  pollute  us, — 
Spare  us  frorh  evil : 

Bring  up  the  youth  in  modesty  and  virtue 
Grant  to  old  age  tranquillity  and  wisdom, 
Give  the  glad  sons  of  Britain  health  and  honor, 
Greatness  and  plenty. 

May  British  mercy  more  than  British  valor 
Gain  from  the  world  its  laurel  and  its  olive, 
Till  over  all  her  enemies  triumphant 
Glories  Britannia! 

Help  her  to  rule  her  own  rebellious  children, 
That  the  wide  West  may  honor  and  uphold  her; 
Aid  her  to  spread  the  banner  of  protection 
Over  her  conquests ! 

Save  from  intestine  murmurings  and  discord, 
Criminal  sloth,  and  infidel  compliance ; 
Scatter  the  curse  of  national  rejection 
Brooding  above  us! 

Let  open  faith,  integrity  and  firmness, 
Primitive  truth,  and  piety,  and  prudence, 
Loyal  content,  and  patriotic  virtue, 
Quickly  returning, 

Crown  us  with  blessings,  though  we  be  unworthy, 
Fill  us  with  mercies  forfeited,  and  rescue 
From  bitter  hate  and  scorn  among  the  Gentiles 
Protestant  Zion. 


A   PRAYER   FOR  THE   LAND.  476 

Friend  of  the  needy,  pity  and  relieve  them: 
Prosper  our  arts,  and  sciences,  and  commerce: 
All  that  can  bless  and  beautify  a  nation, 

Ever  be  Britain's! 
• 

Long  as  the  world  rejoices  in  thy  favor, 
Holding  it  up,  Omnipotent,  —  let  England, 
Let  Caledonia,  with  her  sister  Erin, 

Queen  of  the  nations, 

Reign,  and  be  strong,  acknowledging  thy  mercy; 
Hear  us  in  choral  voice  of  supplication, 
Who  now  invoke  thy  succor  and  thy  blessing, 
Father  Almighty! 

Yes,  we  accept  the  promise  of  thine  answer, 
Yes,  we  depend  on  pity  for  protection, 
And  upon  God  our  confidence  reposes, 

Through  the  Redeemer. 


A    PRAYER    FOR    THE    LAND, 

ALMIGHTT  Father!  hearken, 

Forgive,  and  help,  and  bless, 
Nor  let  thine  anger  darken 

The  night  of  our  distress ; 
A  sin,  and  shame,  and  weakness, 

Are  all  we  call  our  own ; 
We  turn  to  thee  in  meekness, 

And  trust  on  thee  alone. 

O  God,  remember  Zion  — 

And  pardon  all  her  sin! 
Thy  mercy  we  rely  on, 

To  rein  thy  vengeance  in, 


478  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

Though  dark  polution  staineth 
The  Temple  thou  hast  built, 

Thy  faithfulness  remaineth,  — 
And  that  shall  cleanse  the  guilt! 

To  Thee,  then,  Friend  All-seeing, 

Great  source  of  grace  and  love, 
In  whom  we  have  our  being, 

In  whom  we  live  and  move, — 
Jerusalem  obeying 

Thy  tender  word,  "draw  near," 
Would  come  securely,  praying 

In  penitence  and  fear. 

Thou  knowest,  Lord,  the  peril 

Our  ill  deserts  have  wrought, 
If  earth  for  us  is  sterile, 

And  all  our  labor  naught! 
Alas!  our  righteous  wages 

Are  famine,  plague,  and  sword, 
Unless  thy  wrath  assuages 

In  mercy,  gracious  Lord! 

For  lo !  we  know  thy  terrors 

Throughout  the  world  are  rife, 
Seditions,  phrensies,  errors, 

Perplexities,  and  strife ! 
Thy  woes  are  on  the  nations, 

And  thou  dost  scatter  them,  — 
Yet,  heed  the  supplications 

Of  thy  Jerusalem ! 

Truth,  Lord,  we  are  unworthy, 

Unwise,  untrue,  unjust, 
Our  souls  and  minds  are  earthy, 

And  cleaving  to  the  dust; 
But  pour  thy  graces  o'er  us, 

And  quicken  us  at  heart; 
Make  straight  thy  way  before  us, 

And  let  us  not  depart! 


LABOR. 

Turn  us  that  we  may  fear  thee, 

And  worship  day  by  day, — 
Draw  us,  that  we  draw  near  thee, 

To  honor  and  obey ; 
Be  with  us  in  all  trouble, 

And,  as  our  Savior  still, 
Lord,  recompense  us  double 

With  good  for  all  our  ill! 

Though  we  deserve  not  pity, 

Yet,  Lord,  all  bounty  yield, 
All  blessings  in  the  city, 

And  blessings  in  the  field ; 
On  folded  flocks  and  cattle, 

On  basket  and  on  store, 
In  peace  and  in  the  battle, 

All  blessings  evermore! 

All  good  for  earth  and  heaven! 

For  we  are  bold  to  plead, 
As  through  thy  Son  forgiven, 

And  in  Him  sons  indeed ! 
Yes,  Father !   as  possessing 

In  thee  our  Father  —  God  — 
God  give  us  every  blessing, 

And  take  away  thy  rod ! 


LABOR. 

A.  BALLAD  FOR  OUR  MINES  AND  MANUFACTORIES. 

FAIR  work  for  fair  wages !   it's  all  that  we  ask, 
An  Englishman  loves  what  is  fair,  — 

We'll  never  complain  of  the  toil  or  the  task, 
If  Livelihood  comes  with  the  care; 


477 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS. 

Fair  work  for  fair  wages!   we  hope  nothing  else 

Of  the  mill,  or  the  forge,  or  the  soil, 
For  the  rich  man  who  buys,  and  the  poor  man  who  sells, 

Must  pay  and  be  paid  for  his  toil ! 

Fair  work  for  fair  wages,  —  we  know  that  the  claim 

Is  just  between  master  and  man : 
If  the  tables  were  turned  we  would  serve  him  the  same, 

And  promise  we  will  when  we  can ! 
We  give  to  him  industry,  muscles,  and  thews 

And  heartily  work  for  his  wealth, 
So  he  will  as  honestly  yield  us  our  dues, 

Good  wages  for  labor  in  health ! 

Enough  for  the  day,  and  a  bit  to  put  by 

Against  illness,  and  slackness,  and  age ; 
For  change  and  misfortune  are  ever  too  nigh 

Alike  to  the  fool  and  the  sage: 
But  the  fool  in  his  harvest  will  wanton  and  waste, 

Forgetting  the  winter  once  more, 
While  true  British  wisdom  will  timely  make  haste, 

And  save  for  the  "  basket  and  store ! " 

Aye ;  wantonness  freezes  to  want,  be  assured, 

And  drinking  makes  nothing  to  eat, 
And  penury's  wasting  by  waste  is  secured, 

And  luxury  starves  in  the  street! 
And  many  a  father  with  little  ones  pale, 

So  racked  by  his  cares  and  his  pains, 
Might  now  be  all  right,  if,  when  hearty  and  hale, 

He  never  had  squandered  his  gains! 

We  know  that  prosperity's  glittering  sun 

Can  shine  but  a  little,  and  then 
The  harvest  is  over,  the  summer  is  done, 

Alike  for  the  master  and  men: 
If  the  factory  ship  with  its  Captain  on  board 

Must  beat  in  adversity's  waves, 
One  lot  is  for  all !  for  the  great  cotton  lord 

And  the  poorest  of  Commerce's  slaves. 


LABOR.  479 

One  lot !  if  extravagance  reigned  in  the  home, 

Then  poverty's  wormwood  and  gall; 
If  rational  foresight  of  evils  to  come, 

A  cheerful  complacence  in  all: 
For  sweet  is  the  morsel  that  diligence  earned, 

And  sweeter,  that  prudence  put  by; 
And  lessons  of  peace  in  affliction  are  learned, 

And  wisdom  that  comes  from  on  high! 

For  GOD  in  his  providence  ruling  above, 

And  piloting  all  things  below, 
Is  ever  unchangeable  justice  and  love 

In  ordering  welfare  or  woe : 
He  blesses  the  prudent  for  heaven  and  earth, 

And  gladdens  the  good  at  all  times, — 
But  frowns  on  the  sinner,  and  darkens  his  mirth, 

And  lashes  his  follies  and  crimes ! 

Alas !   for  the  babes,  and  the  pallid  wife 

Hurled  down  with  the  sot  to  despair, — 
Yet,  —  GOD  shall  reward  in  a  happier  life 

Their  punishment,  patience,  and  prayer! 
But  woe  to  the  catiff,  who,  starved  by  his  drinks, 

Was  starving  his  children  as  well, — 
O  Man!    break  away  from  the  treacherous  links 

Of  a  chain  that  will  drag  you  to  hell ! 

Come  along,  come  along,  man !  it's  never  too  late, 

Though  drowning,  we  throw  you  a  rope ! 
But  quick  and  be  quit  of  eo  fearful  a  fate, 

For  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope! 
-  So  wisely  come  with  us,  and  work  like  the  rest, 

And  save  of  your  pay  while  you  can; 
And  heaven  will  bless  you  for  doing  your  best, 

And  helping  yourself  like  a  man ! 

For  Labor  is  riches,  and  Labor  is  health, 

And  Labor  is  duty  on  earth, 
And  never  was  honor,  or  wisdom,  or  wealth, 

But  Labor  has  been  at  its  birth! 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS. 

The  rich,  —  in  his  father,  his  friend,  or  himself, 
By  head  or  by  hand  must  have  toiled, 

And  the  brow  that  is  canopied  over  with  pelf, 
By  Labor's  own  sweat  has  been  soiled ! 


"WHAT    IS    A    POET?" 

AN   OFF-HAND   ANSWER   TO    THE    QUESTION. 

No  jingler  of  rhymes,  and  no  mingler  of  phrases, 

No  tuner  of  times,  and  no  primer  of  daisies, 

No  lullaby  lyrist  with  nothing  to  say, 

No  small  sentimentalist  fainting  away, 

No  Ardert  of  alburns,  no  trifling  Tyrtseus, 

No  bilious  misanthrope  loathing  to  see  us, 

No  gradus-and-prosody  maker  of  verses, 

No  Hector  of  tragedy  vaporing  curses,  — 

In  a  word — not  a  bad  one  —  no  mere,  "  poetaster," 

The  monkey  that  follows  some  troubadour  master, 

And  filching  from  Tennyson,  Shelley,  or  Keats, 

With  cunning  mosaic  his  coterie  cheats 

Into  voting  the  poor  petty-larceny  fool, 

A  charming  disciple  of  Wordsworth's  sweet  school! 

Not  a  bit  of  it !  —  Pilferers,  duncy  and  dreary ; 

Human  society's  utterly  weary 

Of  gilt  insincerities  hopping  in  verse, 

And  stately  hexameters  plumed  like  a  hearse, 

And  second-hand  sentiment  sugared  with  ice, 

And  a  third  course  of  passions,  warmed  up  very  nice, 

And  peaches  of  wax,  and  your  sham  wooden  pine, 

The  fitting  dessert  of  a  feast  so  divine ! 

With  musical  lies,  and  mechanical  stuff, 

The  verse-ridden  world  has  been  pestered  enough; 


«YE   THIRTY    NOBLE    NATIONS."  481 

And  yet  in  its  heart,  if  unsmothered  by  words, 
It  still  can  respond,  from  its  innermost  chords, 
To  generous,  truthful,  melodious  Sense, 
To  beautiful  language  and  feelings  intense, 
To  human  affection  sincerely  poured  out, 
To  Eloquence,  —  tagged  with  a  rhyme,  or  without, 
To  anything  tasteful,  and  hearty,  and  true, 
Delicate,  graceful,  and  noble,  and  new. 

Aye, — find  me  the  man,  —  or  the  woman,  —  or  child, 
Though  modest  yet  bold,  and  though  spirited,  mild, 
With  a  mind  that  can  think,  and  a  heart  that  can  feel, 
And  the  tongue  and  the  pen  that  are  skilled  to  reveal, 
And  the  eye  that  hath  wept,  and  the  hand  that  will  aid. 
And  the  brow  that  in  peril  was  never  afraid, — 
With  courage  to  dare,  and  with  keenness  to  plan, 
And  tact  to  declare  what  is  pleasant  to  Man, 
While  guiding,  and  teaching,  and  training  his  mind, 
While  spurring  the  lazy,  and  leading  the  blind, 
With  pureness  in  youth,  and  religion  in  age, 
And  cordial  affections  at  every  stage, — 
The  harp  of  this  woman,  this  man,  or  this  youth, 
By  genius  well-strung,  and  made  tuneful  by  truth, 
Shall  charm  and  shall  ravish  the  world  at  its  will, 
And  make  its  old  heart  yet  tremble  and  thrill, 
While  all  men  shall  own  it,  and  feel  it,  and  know  it, 
Gladly  and  gratefully,  —  Here  is  the  Poet! 


"YE    THIRTY    NOBLE    NATIONS. " 

A    NEW    BALLAD    TO    COLUMBIA. 

YE  Thirty  noble  nations 

Confederate  in  One ! 
That  keep  your  starry  stations 

Around  the  Western  Sun  — 
21 

t 


482  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

I  have  a  glorious  mission, 
And  must  obey  the  call  — 

A  claim !  and  a  petition ! 
To  set  before  you  all. 

Away  with  party  blindness, 

Away  with  petty  spite ! 
My  Claim  is  one  of  Kindness, 

My  Prayer  is  one  of  Right: 
And  while  in  grace  ye  listen  — 

For  tenderness,  I  know 
Your  eyes  shall  dim  and  glisten, 

Your  hearts  shall  thrill  and  glow ! 

For,  on  those  hearts  is  written 

The  spirit  of  my  song, — 
I  claim  your  love  for  Britain, 

In  spite  of  every  wrong ! 
I  claim  it  for  —  your  mother, 

Your  sister,  and  your  spouse, 
Your  father,  friend,  and  brother, 

The  "  Hector  of  your  vows  ! " 

In  spite  of  all  the  evils 

That  statesmen  ever  brewed, 
Or  busy  printer's  devils, 

Or  Celtic  gratitude,  — 
In  spite  of  politicians, 

And  diplomatic  fuss, 
Your  feelings  and  traditions 

Are  cordially  with  US' ! 

O  y"es!  your  recollections 

Look  back,  with  streaming  eye, 
To  pour  those  old  affections 

On  scenes  and  days  gone  by ; 
Your  Eagle  well  remembers 

His  dear  old  island-nest, 
And  sorrow  stirs  the  embers 

Of  love  within  his  breast. 


«YE  THIRTY   NOBLE   NATIONS."  488 

Ah !  need  I  tell  of  places 

You  dream  and  dwell  on  still? 
Those  old  familiar  faces 

Of  English  vale  and  hill,  — 
The  sites  you  think  of,  sobbing, 

And  seek  as  pilgrims  seek, 
With  brows  and  bosoms  throbbing, 

And  tears  upon  your  cheek. 

Or  should  I  touch  on  glories 

That  date  in  ages  gone, 
Those  dear  historic  stories, 

When  England's  name  was  won,  — 
The  tales  your  children  thronging 

So  gladly  hear  you  tell, 
And  note  their  father's  longing, 

And  love  that  longing  well. 

For  language,  follies,  fashions, 

Religion,  honor,  shame, 
And  human  loves,  and  passions, 

Oh!  we  are  just  the  same; 
You,  you  are  England  growing 

To  Continental  state, 
And  we,  Columbia,  glowing 

With  all  that  makes  you  great 

Yes,  Anglo-Saxon  brother, 

I  see  your  heart  is  right, — 
And  we  will  warm  each  other, 

With  all  our  loves  alight; 
In  feeling  and  in  reason 

My  Claim  is  stowed  away, — 
And  kissing  is  in  season 

For  ever  and  a  day!  — 

And  now  in  frank  contrition, 

Oh  brother  mine,  give  heed,— 
And  hear  the  just  Petition 

My  feeble  tongue  would  plead, 


484  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 

I  plead  across  the  waters, 
So  deeply  crimson-stained, 

For  Afric's  sons  and  daughters 
Whom  freemen  hold  enchained! 

I  taunt  you  not  unkindly 
With  ills  you  didn't  make, 

I  would  not  wish  you  blindly 
In  haste  the  bond  to  break ; 

But  tenderly  and  truly 
To  file  away  the  chain, 

And  render  justice  duly 
-  •      To  Man's  Estate  again ! 

O  judge  ye  how  degrading  — 

A  Christian  bought  and  sold. 
And  human  monsters  trading 

In  human  flesh  for  gold! 
When  ruthlessly  they  plunder 

Poor  Afric's  homes  defiled, 
And  all  to  sell  —  asunder! 

The  mother,  and  her  child. 

O  free  and  fearless  nation, 

Wipe  out  this  damning  spot, 
Earth's  worst  abomination, 

And  nature's  blackest  blot 
Begin  and  speed  thee  rather 

To  help  with  hand  and  eye 
The  children  of  your  Father 

Beneath  his  tropic  sky. 

He  —  He  who  formed  and  frees  us, 

And  makes  us  white  within, 
Who  knows  how  Holy  Jesus 

May  love  that  tinted  skin! 
For  none  can  tell  how  darkly 

The  sun  of  Jewry  shed 
Its  burning  shadows  starkly 

On  Jesus'  homeless  head ! 


"YE    THIRTY    NOBLE    NATIONS."  485 

And  lo!   One  great  salvation 

Hath  burst  upon  The  World,— 
And  God'3  Illumination 

Like  noonday  shines  unfurled ; 
Shall  bonds  or  color  pale  it  ? 

Candace's  Eunuch  —  say, — 
The  first,  though  black,  to  hail  it, 

And  love  the  Gospel  Day! 

Columbia,  well  I  note  it 

That  half  your  sons  are  strong 
Against  this  ill,  and  vote  it 

A  folly  and  a  wrong ; 
Yet,  luuks  there  not  a  loathing, 

Aye,  with  your  best  inclined, 
Against  that  sable  clothing 

Of  Man's  own  heart  and  mind? 

I  charge  you  by  your  power, 

Your  freedom,  and  your  fame, 
To  speed  the  blessed  hour 
'        That  wipes  away  this  Shame ; 
By  all  life's  hopes  and  wishes, 

And  fears  beyond  the  grave, 
Renounce  these  blood-bought  riches, 

And  frankly  free  the  slave! 

So  let  whatever  tnreaten, 

While  God  is  on  our  side, 
Columbia  and  Britain 

The  world  shall  well  divide,  — 
Divide  ?  —  No !  in  one 

Of  Anglo-Saxon  might 
We'll  hold  the  world 

In  peace  and  love  and  right! 


488  MISCELLANEOUS    POEMS. 


CONCLUSION. 

ALAS  !  poor  Muse,  thy  songs  are  out  of  time, 

Thy  lot  hath  fallen  on  an  iron  age, 

When  unrelenting  war  the  sordid  wage 
Against  thee,  —  counting  it  no  venial  crime 

To  fling  down  in  thy  cause  the  champion's  gage, 
And  utterly  scorning  him,  who  dares  to  rhyme: 

O  that  thy  thoughts  had  filled  an  earlier  page, 
And  won  the  favoring  ears  of  holier  men! 
Whose  spirits  might  with  thee  have  soared  sublime, 
Far  above  selfish  Mammon's  crgwded  den : 
Thou  hadst  been  more  at  home  and  happier  then: 
Yet  be  thou  of  good  courage ;  there  are  still 
Those  "left  seven  thousand,"  wfcose  affections  will 
Yearn  on.  thy  little  good,  and  pardon  thy  much  ilL 


THE   ENDt 


A     000040139 


